Empty Rooms
by death-in-the-orchard
Summary: Hell Dog Vlad has done something that would make most people believe that he is suicidal. Kissing a gangster is a bad idea, especially if the other gangster is a guy...who can be violent when provoked. Read author's note please for more information. Enjoy
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: **WARNING** Mature for language, offensive things, sexual references, and bad humor. The two main characters are gay. This is not yaoi because it is not Japanese gay porn. There is no porn. They are just gay. You have been warned. Please no flames, yada yada.

* * *

The emerald eyes flashed with sunlight as they darted to the black clothes and the pale skin. A fleshy finger was pointing out the black clad teenager, and once it knew its purpose had been accomplished, it hid in the pocket of a teen's sweater. There was a group of boys, a good number of chattering girls thrown into the mix, and they, including the emerald eyes, stopped to look at the pale boy across the quad, their view interrupted at times by the busy lunch traffic.

"He's gay? Are you sure?" "No way!" Giggle. "So messed up. A gay gangster? How long do you think he's gonna last before one of his drop out druggy buds puts a bullet in his head?" "Probably won't even notice. The freak's always high. A different drug every day, is what I hear." "When you want something you go to him or one of the guys that are always with him. They always reek of weed."

The green eyes focused on the pale teen, picking up his languid posture. He was stoned, slouching sloppily on a bench with a few other guys, some in a state similar to his.

"Feh. So Hell Dog Vlad's a gay…and all this time he's been calling us faggots. Well, now he's the one that's screwed. Not long before his little crew finds out about this rumor. I hear that it's totally legit' but even if it isn't, a rumor's enough for that group to put a hit on him." "Where have you been learning this kind language?" "Oh, been watching this show called JAIL on TV. Really interesting psychology for the whole thing though. I like it, though it's pretty profane. Loads of sex offenders…you bet Hell Dog's raped his own number of girls…oh wait he's a gay now, _never mind_." Laughter began and carried across the quad to the languid Hell Dog. Red eyes swiveled to their direction, blurrily making out the source of the sound. A flash of green, they noticed, and then lost interest and let their gaze wander away. Not going to waste a good high on something as ridiculous as this, the teen's eyes closed and Vlad cut off the sounds of the school campus and remained on the bench after the warning bell for the last five minutes of lunch sounded in the air above him.

He felt good right now. This was the only time he ever felt good, and he had to treasure it, cuz he was out of cash and his stash was spent as well. Whatever. It was worth it.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

The green eyes were dimmed by the indoor lighting as they followed the dark figure when it slipped into the janitor's closet. It was supposed to be locked, the green eyes thought as they drew closer to the door. They looked down at the handle as a tan hand turned it, opening the door. He could already smell the cigarette smoke, the tan teen stared at the red eyes that burned in the poorly lit room, a cigarette hanging from pale, expressionless lips. Vlad cocked a brow at the tall blonde boy with the brilliant green eyes and tanned skin, and his eyes flicked to the opened door.

"Where're your manners?" The question came from the cigarette occupied mouth, the words working around the obstruction. "Close the _fucking_ door."

The door shut, but the tan teen closed it so that he left himself locked inside the large closet with the smoking delinquent. Vlad's brow hitched higher and he frowned at the unwelcomed intruder. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I would like to talk to you."

Vlad's brow eased as his eyes narrowed at the nervousness in the tone and the way the green eyes could no longer come to his face, as if the taller teen was embarrassed or anxious, or both. "Huh? You stupid or something? Get out. This is my fucking closet, get your own, bitch."

The green eyes flinched, and dismally fell to the floor. It was quiet for a moment, and then a hesitant glance from the green eyes found a relaxed glare burning back at them. Vlad's cigarette flared and smoke seeped from his mouth as he spoke. "What's your name?"

The tan boy seemed to stutter. "M-my name's Alex. Last name, Anderson."

Vlad frowned upon the stuttering, but did not comment, instead he looked up at the small windows by the ceiling on the wall across from the one he was leaning against. He removed the cigarette and exhaled a noxious cloud to watch it rise and disperse slowly. "Alright Alex Anderson, god that's a shitty name. Everyone's an Alex or an Anderson, the name's fuckin' everywhere. How do you keep track of yourself? Fuck, what a lame ass name. I'm going to call you Anderson, alright. I know at least twenty freaken Alex's already and I'm goddamn tired of the name." The cigarette burned idly in the boy's hand as he scowled at the window and then returned the white stick to his mouth and rolled his eyes to the staring teen, without warning, making the green orbs look away. Vlad noticed the fancy logo on the bronze frames of the glasses and the boy's nice clothing. "Aw _fuck_," The tan face jerked up in surprise as Vlad cursed, biting on the filter of his cigarette. "Fuck, you're a freaken faggot. I know it. I know a freaken fag when I see one. _Fuck it_."

The teen fumed, drawing viciously on his cigarette so that a stub of ash tumbled to the floor. They're already coming, he thought with disgust.

The green eyes were steady and the tan face was sure for a moment before becoming humble again. "But…I've heard that…you're gay…"

Vlad looked at the teen, saying nothing when his head whipped to the side, red glaring at the wall instead. "Fuck yourself somewhere else. This is my closet, so get out."

"I-I I've liked you for a while, Vlad." Anderson suddenly blurted, and then seemed horrified of his outburst and he hung his head, embarrassed again. Vlad watched him, blinking lazily. Fuck, he's even blushing. A snort startled Anderson, causing him to look up again to see Vlad sneer at him, stuffing his pale hands into the baggy pockets of his oversized jacket.

"So-" the gangster chuckled darkly, a glimmer coming into his eyes as his teeth flashed at the other boy. "You want me to fuck you?"

The green eyes widened and then became round, blinking in shock. "N-no. Gosh no."

Gosh? Damn. Vlad leered at Anderson now, allowing his lips to come together to hide his teeth. "So, you want to fuck me?"

"I-I said I just wanted to talk. I-I've liked you for a long time…" Anderson's face was slightly flushed and he gestured to himself and to Vlad, seemingly seeking an understanding as he approached the delinquent. Vlad's leer twisted.

He didn't even deny it. He's a real bastard, the pale teen concluded with a steady glower going up to the face above him, feeling the warm hands touch his shoulders, grasping them suddenly, clumsily, as if in a panic, but Vlad could feel, in the grasp, that the teen knew what he was doing. Anderson had touched another male this way before. Red left the glower behind to crease with a wide smirk that stunned Anderson for a moment, but also let other emotions come to the green eyes, emotions that most would not notice because of his facial expression. But Vlad could see the insolence and the lust.

"You're a sucky actor Anderson, and I've seen this act before."

Green blinked innocently, but the insolence was breaking through now. It was futile to continue, but the boy made a last stand for show. "What do you mean? I-I really like you."

"Fuck!" A cackle filled the closet and the feigned innocence melted away from Anderson's face to be replaced by perverse amusement as he watched Vlad throw back his head with humor. The gangster laughed until he had to take out his cigarette and wipe away a tear or two from his eyes. "Fuck! You're hilarious! I fuckin' _hate_ you already." He laughed, but his hand grazed one of Anderson's, teasing it now with gentle touches. Vlad smiled up at the already smirking teen. "You insolent, twisted, self-absorbed bastard. You hear I'm a faggot so you come to me acting out the role of an easy target, a fool with a mindless crush, to entice me to play with you? You think I'd go for an easy fuck like that? Why do you think I'd let you be on top?"

"Because there's no way I would be bottomed by worthless trash like you." Anderson's impudent smirk flowed with his tone, leaving Vlad to grin in awe of the blunt confidence.

The delinquent chuckled, holding his cigarette in one hand while his other played with the other teen's fingers.

"But your acting sucks. Admit it." Anderson chuckled in acknowledgement, nodding his head, so he didn't at first notice when the cigarette had returned to Vlad's mouth. When a sudden steam of smoke was blown into his face, Anderson coughed and pushed away from the pale boy, his hands rubbing furiously at his stinging eyes under his glasses. He cursed while Vlad's laugh rung in his ears. "You're lucky I didn't burn that pretty face of yours for that, ya jackass."

Anderson coughed again and waved away any lingering smoke before his eyes opened, watching the delinquent coldly, but still retaining his sense of superiority. He scoffed. "You're a real scumbag."

The other teen simply chortled in response. "Scumbag? You're the scumbag. You were planning on fucking me in _my_ own fuckin' closet. _My_ _closet_, which, by the way, if you do not understand English, means that this closet is mine…so you should get the fuck out before I decide to rape your ass raw."

Anderson sneered back at the tone. "I'm all for it. Bend and cough to the side for me first."

"Fuck you. You're a freak." Vlad laughed again, stopping when he took in the fumes of his cigarette. His hand delved into his back pocket, bringing caution to Anderson's eyes before they relaxed when a carton of cigarettes appeared. They were offered to him. "You want a smoke?"

"No."

"Good. Because I wasn't going to give you one." Vlad snorted at this, flipping open the carton to reveal the nonexistent contents. Anderson was looking at the package with some interest before he jerked when it was thrown at his face carelessly, but without warning. "_You_ bend over and cough, bitch. Get the hell out of my closet."

"What if I said…that I want this closet now?" Anderson smirked at Vlad's confused expression.

"What the fuck? What the fuck do you want with my closet? You've got the whole school campus to prance about on with your little faggy friends. Go have an orgy in the quad and leave me the fuck alone, ya shithead." Vlad blinked when he realized that Anderson was rummaging through his back pocket, looking for something. "You're fingering yourself now, in my closet? You _sick_ bastard."

"Shut up." Anderson snapped back, unable to let this one slide as he produced a package of Juicy Fruit gum. Vlad stared at it when it was offered to him. "Do you want a piece of gum?"

"I don't want to chew anything that comes out of your ass, Anderson."

The boy wasn't upset this time, distracted by the unexpected use of his name, and then by Vlad's actions of grinding out his cigarette against the wall, and then going over and bending down to pick up the carton he had thrown earlier. The remaining part of the cigarette was dropped into it and then the carton was stuffed back into Vlad's pocket before his hand reached out to take a piece of gum. Anderson snapped out of his daze just in time to whip the gum away from the hand, stunning Vlad who stared at the empty space, and then Anderson's smugness. "I never said I was going to give you any. I was just wondering if you wanted a piece of gum."

Anderson chuckled deviously while he unwrapped a stick of gum and grinned as he chewed it, entertained by Vlad's blank look that soon became one of annoyance. A pale hand flipped Anderson off, receiving a chuckle and a snapping of gum.

"Fucktard."

"What's a fucktard?" Anderson asked, actually curious.

"A retard and a fuck, combined. So you're a retarded fuck, you fucktard bitch. Give me some gum."

"No." A smile came with the denial, leaving Vlad to scowl and flip him off again and motion the act of shoving his finger up the other boy's ass. Anderson's smile grew bolder. "Oh, so you want to go back to that now? I'm still all for it, right in the school janitor's closet. You know everyone else has gone home, pretty much. It's close to four thirty or maybe five something. Why are you hanging around the school when you aren't even required to?"

Vlad glowered up at the face, sincerely pissed off about not getting any gum after he had done that to his last cigarette. He could always light it again, but still… "Fuck off. I was enjoying myself in my closet, smoking and minding my own goddamn business. Why the fuck are you hanging around the school?"

"I had a club activity and my P.E. ran late, so the club meeting was postponed for a bit."

"P.E.?" Narrowed red ran up and down the taller boy for a moment. "How old are you?"

"18."

"A Senior?"

"Yeah."

Vlad's mouth contorted into a bemused frown. "Then why the hell do you have freaken P.E.? You like to watch the Freshmen boys run around in their shorts or something?"

This put Anderson off the conversation and he went to the wall and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Vlad scowled at him, thrusting a finger towards the opposite wall. "You can use that one. This one." He pointed at the wall behind Anderson with a growl. "Is mine."

The boy merely smirked. "Says who?"

Red narrowed with a slight hiss coming from the pale lips. "The janitor. I gave him most of my smokes and he unlocked the closet for me. He doesn't use this one, none of the janitors do. That's why it's basically empty. It's more of an unused storage room now. So fuck off on the other wall, you dickwad. This is my wall!"

Green eyes gazed at the flaring red, watching. "Why would you give the janitor cigarettes for a closet?"

"I told you to fuck yourself on the other wall. This one is mine!"

"Why are you in here?"

No answer came as Vlad moved farther down 'his' wall and slumped against it, shoving his hands into his pockets, tempted to use the rest of his last cigarette. The quiet consumed the room, the walls pressing in until Vlad caved and reached for his back pocket and drew out a lighter. With a few sparks, a blue flame finally caught and the stub of a cigarette was lit and returned to Vlad's mouth. He put the empty carton in his back pocket again, smushing and distorting the shape of the package when he had trouble slipping it in. The embers of the cigarette brightened and then dulled. "I'm hiding, you fucktard. What else?"

With the implications that came with this confession, Anderson found that he had no retort, and he quietly submitted to that fact as he waited for Vlad to draw on his cigarette and then begin to talk again, looking up at the minimal lighting coming from the tiny windows.

"I got high with my best friend, thought it was a good time to try and kiss him. I ended up kissing him and telling him dumb shit, so he found out I was gay, and he went and got a sledge hammer and tried to bash my head in. And now word has made its way around, I mean, even a shithead fag like you has heard that I'm a shitty faggot." The embers burned, but the tobacco was running low now, so the teen eased up on his consumption rate and let the quiet swallow them again. The night sky outside the window was bluish tonight, but the windows were too small to allow him to discern whether the sky contained any clouds or not.

"If everyone knows you're gay, why were you hanging out with your normal druggies?"

Vlad's red eyes left the window and his face moved to Anderson. "Then you mustn't've seen me today. Today I was fucking stalking teachers like some grade obsessive freak to make sure I didn't get knifed in the halls or somethin'. I mean, fuck, I've gotten tons of death threats even with my nose buried in the ass of any teacher I could find. It really freaked the teachers out too, they thought _I _was gonna knife _them_, or something. I felt kinda sorry for 'em, the way they were all pale and twitchy. They'd go off and hide in the teacher's rest room so I'd have to run off and find a new one. Fuck…oh FUCK! It was JUST pathetic, SHIT!"

"Stop yelling."

The two watched one another, and then Vlad looked at the wall to his side, away from Anderson. "Hey, you know you're gonna get locked up in the school if you don't get you're ass out of here soon."

A glint that had faded, returned to the emerald eyes, and they creased with amusement. Anderson edged silently closer to the other teen, continuing even when Vlad gave him a sharp, reproachful look. "Then I'd have you here all alone. No one to interfere."

Vlad snorted and moved the cigarette around in his mouth as Anderson came within touching distance.

"So you're a fucking rapist now?"

"No."

Vlad lifted a brow at the sinister smile that suggested otherwise. "Go masturbate in the corner, you freak."

"You'd watch?"

Vlad snapped when a hand dipped down to Anderson's zipper.

"Fuck you! I'll burn your fucking eyes out if you keep freaking me out! Get on your own fucking wall, or get the fuck out of my closet! I'm trying to save my ass, not get it fucking molested by some pervert freak!"

"Oi!" Anderson's brow furrowed and he lifted his hands and backed off a step. "Can't you get a joke?"

Vlad snarled. "I'm sick of you. Get out."

"This is my closet now." Anderson smiled, but his expression slipped at the fury that rose up in Vlad's face.

"This is my fucking closet! Go home you rich ass faggot! You have a home, so leave me the fuck alone! I'm trying to stay alive and all you're trying to do is get in my pants! FUCK OFF YOU BASTARD BEFORE I BURN YOUR EYES OUT!" Vlad followed the retreating Anderson until the taller teen was pressed up against the door with the pale boy snarling up at him like a savage animal. With a quick movement, Vlad gasped when the cigarette butt was snatched away and thrown on the floor where it was ground into oblivion by Anderson's shoe. Vlad gaped down at the ruined cigarette, but then choked and fought the hold the bigger teen had on his neck. Their tussle threw them into a wall where they were finally able to separate, each panting with adrenalin. Vlad was also gasping for air as he gave breathless curses to the boy.

"You…y…ou dumbass…fucktard…da..damn you." Vlad's back hit the wall as he struggled to catch his breath, coughing a few times while Anderson smirked.

"You should stop smoking."

"Fuck you, asshole." A middle finger rose in the gloom. Anderson looked up to the windows and realized how much time must have passed. What if he really did get locked in the school? And what about Hell Dog…? His eyes widened a bit and he looked around at the concrete flooring.

"Have you been sleeping in here?"

Vlad threw him a glare with a sneer attached. "No. I sleep upstairs in the nice hotel room with the fucking bed and blankets. YES. I sleep in here, fucktard. I told you, I'm hiding you dipshit."

Anderson watched him, saying nothing for a long while. Then he looked up at the windows, and then again at the floor. His eyes went to Vlad who scowled at him. "You want to come home with me?"

Red widened and then burned. "So you can fucking molest me?"

"There's a spare bedroom, a whole bed and everything. Plus food. I'm going to leave now, I'm starving, so I thought I'd throw it out there since you don't have much else going for you."

Now the delinquent could only stare, in a daze of disbelief, searching for a grip on reality as Anderson continued.

"You know, it's pretty easy for them to find out that you're hiding at the school. They'll find you eventually. But if you come with me, they'll never be able to even guess where you are."

That won the argument, and the two slunk out of the school and through the lamp lit parking lot to Anderson's car. With a last moment of hesitation, Vlad looked across the top of the car at Anderson, closed his eyes, and got in the passenger seat.

As they drove, Anderson glanced a few times at the continuous glare the other boy was giving him. Finally, Vlad hissed. "I'll kill you if you try to fuck me in my sleep."

The driver flinched, and scowled at Vlad, shrugging off the shudder he had at the thought. "I get it. I'm done with it. Not going to try anything, I swear. No need to kill me."

"Good. You'd go to fucking jail if you slept with me anyway. You can't sleep with minors."

That caught Anderson by surprise, and he stared at Vlad until the car swerved dangerously and he had to correct it. He glanced at Vlad again, over his surprise. "How old are you?"

"17."

Anderson mused for a moment. "I thought you were a Senior."

"I am. Turn 18 later."

"When?"

Vlad sneered. "You want to know the exact date you're able to legally fuck me?"

"I SAID I was over it! I was JUST asking a friggen QUESTION! God, are you _touchy_!" Anderson sighed out with his aggravation, calming when the quiet returned. The sky was black now, he noticed.

"So far I only know you as some horny freak, and I'm a desperate dumbass for getting in the car with you. Just don't try anything sketchy with me and this'll go smoothly for both of us."

"Got it! So give it a rest!"

"Fine." Vlad turned to look out his window. What he saw was primarily his own reflection and then Anderson's behind his. He didn't seem like such a freak in his reflection, but Vlad couldn't allow himself to let his guard down. With this thought, Vlad pushed his hood up to cover his head and shadow his face. Anderson noticed and watched the back of his hood for a moment.

"I'm sorry about freaking you out."

"Fuck you."

It was silent after that.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"Yo, did you ever consider what your parents were gonna think about my being in your house? Doubt they'll like it much." Vlad closed the car door as Anderson got out and went to the trunk to get some textbooks he needed. He gave Vlad a dull, superior look and marched into the house.

"You're really not too observant. One car, being mine, means I'm the only one home. My dad's on a business trip, like he always is. And my mom's working late, just like always."

Vlad was following the larger teen into the house, down a hall to where he saw the boy plop his books on a counter and then head to a fridge to get food. Vlad automatically followed the goal of feeding his stomach and he became Anderson's shadow as the teen prepared some food. Anderson noticed with a deep set smirk. "You hungry?"

"Oh, hell yeah. I haven't eaten in two days, been living off of my last cigarettes…hanging on to the last one you ended up ruining. You owe me food for that and your sexual harassment, bastard."

"Put on an apron and let's see how this all goes…"

"Fuck you. Food, bitch. Now."

"Now you don't get any." Anderson snickered while the pale teen steamed.

"Goddamn faggot."

"We're both fags, wanna let the course of our nature flow the way it's supposed to? Think about the opportunity. Home alone. A nice pink apron with frills, you, me, a bath and then bed to burn off the calories we consume at dinner. Wake up nice and refreshed."

"Enough with the jokes or I'm raiding your fridge and taking everything you fuckin' got. And then I'll cut off your dick with a fucking steak knife and deep fry it, how 'bout that?"

Anderson was quiet though he was wearing a faint smirk as he prepared their food. Vlad watched hungrily, over his shoulder. "What do you want to eat?"

"Anything you got." The delinquent replied hastily, moving to the side to watch. Anderson could tell he was practically salivating. Guess two days was a long time to go without food. "Fuck. Just give it to me raw, I don't care."

"They're frozen peas. You can't eat them until they're cooked, you idiot. The lasagna dinner is frozen too. You've got other choice but to cook them." Anderson grumbled at the other teen's impatience as he slammed the door of the microwave close, setting the lasagna to cook for ten minutes. Then he continued with the peas, adding water and butter, and then a sprinkling of garlic powder.

"What're you doing to the green beans?"

"They're peas." A frown was thrown at Vlad, sending the teen to wander around the kitchen over to Anderson's other side to watch.

"Sure you can't eat 'em raw?"

"Want to break your tooth, sure, take a bite."

Vlad gazed at the food, swallowing when he felt his stomach shudder and yowl. He licked his lips without knowing it as he stared at the food. It's didn't matter; he was close to the point that eating dirt sounded like a good idea. When Anderson saw that Vlad was about to snatch out a handful of the peas, he lifted the bowl and moved it out of the delinquent's reach. "I have some crackers, you want those?"

The red eyes dilated and a nod bobbed them rapidly. "Hell yeah! Anything you got."

A chuckle moved Anderson's chest as he went to the cupboard, keeping a wary eye on the bowl of peas, and he retrieved the end of a stack of Ritz crackers he threw at the eager hands that snapped it up like the jaws of a hungry dog. Vlad tore open the package impatiently and stuffed a few crackers into his mouth, chewing and swallowing prematurely, causing him to cough, but roll his eyes. God, he had been starving. When _was_ the last time he'd eaten something? It might have been more than two days, he couldn't remember. Anderson watched with mild disgust and fascination as Vlad devoured the crackers like an animal, dusting his black jacket with crumbs. The tan teen grinned.

"Can I have one?"

Vlad glowered at him, holding the crackers possessively for a second. "Get your own fuckin' crackers." He snapped, but still dug out another cracker and offered it stiffly to Anderson. When the surprised teen didn't take it, Vlad hissed. "Take the goddamn thing. They're your fuckin' things anyway. Take it!"

"I don't want it." Anderson heard the boy growl and then watched as he stuffed the cracker in his mouth and swallowed it. Vlad ate slowly after that, watching the time on the microwave. He put the crackers down and leaned back on the counter. Anderson grinned when a pale hand never brushed off the crumbs. Since Vlad had forgotten, it was his duty to go over to the teen and help brush him off. Anderson got in two brushes before Vlad tore away from him, barring his teeth threateningly as he bristled. Anderson smiled. "So you like to go around covered in crumbs?"

Red flicked down to the crumbs and Vlad began to angrily swat them away, beating on the jacket to dislodge the more persistent crumbs. Time continued to tick away on the microwave and eventually the lasagna was done and the bowl of peas was set in the microwave to cook. The wrapping on the lasagna was removed, releasing a cloud of steam. Anderson was dishing out the lasagna when the microwave professed that its job was done. Not trusting Vlad to give equal portions, he told the boy to get some oven mitts and take out the peas, and to stir them so that they could cool faster. After Vlad found the oven mitts, he did just what Anderson had told him to do, and then watched as the peas were transferred to two lasagna bearing plates. The boys sat at two stools by a counter space that was illuminated by hanging lamps, near the textbooks Anderson had taken from the back of his car. Vlad immediately began to consume his food, scalding his tongue, but not caring, while Anderson watched, humored into showing his smugness again.

"Good?"

"Don't care. Just got to get it in my stomach." Vlad grunted between mouthfuls. The boy continued to eat in this manner even though Anderson eventually adopted some distaste for it as he watched the teen.

"You're a pig."

"Shut up. I'm fuckin' starving."

"Feh." Anderson ate some of his food, watching Vlad as his source of entertainment. He sneered after a while. "You're just sloppy, everything about you."

"Shut up already. I'm fuckin' hungry you a-hole, bitch." Vlad didn't look up as he ate, though he did try to discretely lick his mouth clean. He took a napkin when one was offered to him, without thanking the tan hand that had provided it.

"You're welcome." Anderson snorted at the rude hand gesture he received for his sarcasm, and he shook his head as he continued to eat. It was quiet for a time before Anderson spoke again. "Is this better than staying in your precious closet?"

Vlad growled defensively at the grin he observed. "Fuck off."

Anderson smiled bitterly at the boy and then sent his eyes roaming about his house. With the only lights on in the whole place, the kitchen was the center of life in the Anderson home. The tan teen swallowed and ate another bite of food.

"This place is fuckin' depressing, lonesome as shit." Anderson started and looked up at Vlad, surprised to find that the red eyes had been searching the house as well. "It's a fuckin' sweet, rich ass place though. You're filthy rich, ain't ya?" The delinquent snorted and pushed his peas around on his plate. "No wonder you're a messed up, selfish perv. All you got to do here is play with yourself."

"Oh, shut up." Anderson spat back, glaring at his food crossly. He was sitting next to the gangster so he could smell the cigarette smoke from earlier coming off of the black jacket. "You reek of smoke."

"Fucking faggot. Mind your own business." Peas came to fill Vlad mouth as he hunched over his food, leaving an arm propped up on the counter. "What I smell like is what I smell like. Shit if I care."

"It's disgusting."

"If it bothers you so much why you trying to get me to spread my-"

"Shut up! Damn, it's annoying now! Can't you leave it behind and just…stop?" Anderson shoveled some food into his mouth angrily and chewed while Vlad watched. The pale lips spoke after the third chew.

"…legs."

Cough, choke. "SHUT UP! Damn you- You make me sound like some kind of freaken predator! Shut. Up."

"Gotcha'" Vlad finished off his food and then leaned heavily on his arm as he chewed. Anderson observed his disgusting posture with a scowl.

"You're the ugliest damn gay guy I've ever come across, too."

Vlad shot a glare at Anderson for that comment, but didn't do more as his eyes broke away to wander again.

He's fuckin' spacey, Anderson scowled. Must be all the drugs. He's pure scum from hell. The green eyes brightened with a sudden leer. Tapping fingers on the counter gained Vlad's attention, and he looked at Anderson's expression. "What's your drug of choice?"

Red grew and then narrowed inquiringly. "You got some?"  
Feh. "No." The leer twisted with some revulsion as Anderson went on. "I was just wondering what you like, to try to get to know your little drug rotted mind."

Vlad smiled darkly at the words and had the inclination to reach for a cigarette, but then remembered that he was all out. The teen sighed, but sat up, looking down the dark hall that had taken them to the kitchen from the garage. "I like loads of different things, but I kinda like mushrooms. Fuck, they're actually legal, but I like 'em because they're," He sniggered and swung his head towards Anderson's expressionless features, leaving his head at a tilt with his smile. "…they're organic." Chuckle. "I like the way that they're just natural, and it's just a flow…" His head returned to a more comfortable position. "…you just eat them and they make the world a perfect, fuckin' awesome place. You don't feel nothing but openness, happiness, peace and shit like that." Vlad head lowered to his hands as he thought about it, his body becoming more listless. Anderson said nothing. "You've got no fear, no troubles, everything just fine and fucking amazing. You can look at a freaken rug for hours, like it's some amazing, miraculous, fuckin' godly thing. LSD works well too, but it's not as cheap, sometimes…more expensive, I don't think I've tried it either, and plus I like that the mushrooms are actual mushrooms, like food. Doesn't even seem like a drug, just magic food. It's fuckin' out there." Vlad laughed quietly, moving his hand out into the open space, towards the dark hallway. Then the boy brought his hands together and pressed them down with his cheek, sitting folded over on his stool.

"So, for you, drugs fix everything?"

Red irises moved up to peer at Anderson's down turned face. They blinked. "They make me feel good even with all the shit that goes on in my life."

"Hm." Anderson looked away and then got up to bring his plate to the sink. Vlad sat there without moving until he heard the sink turn off. Then he got up and washed off his own plate and slipped it into the dish washer after Anderson was done. Anderson closed the dish washer, but didn't start it. There weren't enough dishes in the machine for it to be an economical thing to do. He broke away to get his textbooks, and then the green eyed boy went through his house without turning any lights on, going up the stairs to the hall where his room was located. Then he flipped a switch and lights brightened his vision. A hand was thrown back at a door to his right. "That's the spare room. You can sleep in there, just don't break, steal, or mess anything up. And stay up here, even though it's unlikely, if my mom comes home I don't want her finding you and freaking out, alright?" Anderson didn't look to see Vlad's expression or wait to hear his response, going down the hall to his own room. He opened the door and didn't bother to close it.

The teen fixed his glasses when he felt that they had slipped down the bridge of his nose, sighing as he put his textbooks on his desk and sat down to open his laptop to get some work done. His phone buzzed as the screen was loading, so Anderson took it out and slid it open to reveal the keyboard so he could respond to a few old texts, and then the one he had just gotten. A tan mouth frowned when a shadow fell over the screen as he finished his last message. Snapping the phone close, Anderson gave Vlad a cold look. The gangster's eyes followed the phone into Anderson's pocket. When he could no longer see it, the red eyes traveled over the boy's laptop.

"What do you want?"

The voice captured the red eyes and made Vlad frown as well and then drift off to wander about Anderson's room. "Nothing. Can't a guy just look around, Christ. You're being so goddamn bitchy."

Anderson scowled, typing in his password and checking back to see what the gangster was doing. "I just cooked you a meal and gave you a bed. Thank me already." Anderson waited, looking at Vlad expectantly. All he received was a middle finger. A sigh turned the green eyes to the screen where Anderson pulled up a Word Document and began to type, flipping open one of his textbooks to check on the notes he had folded inside of it. Vlad, meanwhile, was staring at a poster on the wall, starting to sneer.

"You like football players?" He gave the sneer to Anderson's huff of annoyance, but lost the expression when Anderson growled.

"I'm one of the football players on that damn poster…stupid son-of-a-gun, freak. You still need to thank me."

Vlad ignored him completely as he became engrossed in the task of finding Anderson's picture. "Oh, fuck! You're actually on here? You messed up bastard."

"Shut up."

"You're a fag and you're on the football team?" The pale teen cackled, facing Anderson's back so he could see it twitch in response. Vlad smirked with a low murmur. "So you like the locker room, don't ya? You watch them when they don't realize-"

Anderson cut him off with a heated huff. "They know I'm gay. The whole school knows I'm gay, pretty much. Unlike you, I don't go around hiding in a flippin' closet. I'm the captain of the football team, or was, during the season. So shut up when you've got no clue what you're talking about, you little ungrateful freak of nature."

Vlad stared at the now known jock, blinking owlishly as his stunned state persisted. The red eyes looked away, to the floor, without seeing it, and the teen moved thoughtlessly. He came to sit with his back to Anderson, on the side of his bed, looking at and pondering the poster. The jock, who had heard his mattress springs creak, glanced over his shoulder and then set to typing again, stopping to save his progress.

"Tha' makes no fuckin' sense. A jock…a gay, made the fuckin' captain? Shit. Why don't people know about this?"

"They do." Anderson spoke over his typing keyboard. "You and your like are just too detached from reality, too loaded up with drugs, that you don't notice anything around you."

The sound of clicking keys filled the room until the mattress shifted when Vlad let himself fall backwards, flat across it. The typing paused. Anderson peered back at his bed and then blinked at the upside down pale face that was frowning at him. Black hair was running down the side of the mattress, leaving Vlad's face exposed. Green blinked at the red for a while, trying to read what the eyes were saying. They lost interest when Vlad smirked at him. "Whatcha lookin' at, captain Anderson? I'm freaken bored to death here. When does your mom usually get home? It's pretty damn late. Is she a hoe or somethin'?"

"She's a cop."

Anderson watched as Vlad's face became blank, and then twisted to the side with an odd upside down grin. "You're shittin' me."

"No. Really, she's a police woman."

Vlad's grin slipped away when Anderson retained his straight face. Then his eyes widened a bit. "Well, fuck. She's not going to like me _at all_. Why the hell'd you bring me here again?"

"You were going to sleep in a closet storage room."

"Oh yeah…that the reason? Huh." The eyes turned to the side, observing the room from a new point of view. Anderson watched him, checking once to make sure the teen's converse shoes weren't on his bed.

"How did you get into this mess anyway?" Anderson swiveled his computer chair around so he could face Vlad. The red eyes stared at him.

"Didn't I tell you already? Got high with my best friend, kissed him and said dumb shit, and he flipped out and got a sledge hammer and tried to bash my head in." The two looked at one another and eventually Vlad sat up and spun around so that he was sitting on the side of the bed that allowed him to look at Anderson without straining his neck. "You want me to narrate it for ya?" Anderson's head tilted in a given nod that showed that it was obvious. "Fine." Vlad smirked, and looked away, exhaling a lungful of air. "Nothin' special. Doing lines with my friend, jus' stuff. And then I decided that it was the time, since we were being pretty laid back and all, in a good mood, feeling good. So, I decided to get on his lap, straddle him, and kiss him."

Anderson blinked dumbly at the teen's confession. Was he a total moron or what? Anderson collected himself when Vlad spoke again, looking at him.

"Well, I thought it was sexy as hell, he would've been fine with it if I was a girl, and he was responding for a bit, but then," Vlad swallowed some air and gave a humored sigh. "…aw well, I said stupid gay shit and I guess he realized what was going on and he pushed me away. Then he got pissed and was yelling, just flipping out, and he left. I thought I should go after him, so I did. Went to the garage, I don't remember where we were exactly, I get lost like that sometimes, might've been other people there, don't know, but, anyways, that's when he found the sledge hammer and he swung it at me a few times and then chased me off when I began to run to try and save my ass. Took a day or two, but now pretty much everyone knows, and I'm a dead man walking, as they say. Fuck, it sucks. Just dumb shit like that ruins everything." The delinquent was quiet while Anderson watched him. This was the first time Anderson had seen Vlad sit so still, and he hadn't been actively gesturing with his hands to describe what he was saying either. For the first time, he seemed rather melancholy.

Anderson swiveled back to the computer and began to work again, attracting Vlad's eyes for a while, but neither of them spoke. Anderson couldn't get the image of Vlad and some other guys sitting around a glass topped table, snorting a line of cocaine through rolled up dollar bills or whatever they used. It was a revolting concept, that people lived their lives, chasing their next high. Chasing the first high the cocaine gave them, one that could never be reached again. It darkened the tanned features.

"How does somebody become such a screw up like you?" Vlad looked up at Anderson, but the teen had his back turned to the delinquent as he scowled at his computer screen. "You're running around, getting high, sleeping in a closet, why don't you just go home? Go to rehab, clean yourself up? You deserve what you're getting right now. It's your own damn fault." Vlad smiled at the back of the jock's head, leaning back with his hands planted on the mattress.

"Shit happens."

Anderson scowled, and ignored the comment. "How bad must your parents have been for you to be the way you are? Or did you just decide to do drugs, get high and hang around criminals and…look the way you do? Your contacts are just…begging for attention, and you should be getting more sun and eating real food instead of filling yourself up with drugs. Your body's messed up. Frankly, people like you disgust me."

It was quiet again, with only the sound of typing, but Vlad was still smiling. Then he snickered disturbingly, halting the typing fingers and turning Anderson's head. Vlad gazed back at the green eyes, smirking. "My parents were fine, though my dad was ashamed of me because the contacts that call for so much damned attention, do not exactly exist. I have red eyes. I've got colorless, white skin, like a freak. Just a few mutated genes, or pigments, or whatever, can't remember and don't care enough to. And my parents are dead. I don't have a fuckin' home to go to. I just wander about, get hits, crash at someone's place or sleep in the streets, fuckin' wherever. Doesn't matter. So the way I get so fucked up is by having an uncle that throws me in the streets and lets the freaks take me under their wing. Some guy took me in, and yeah, he liked me, a _lot_. Heh, fuck did he like me. Always petting, touchin', giving me food, candy, jus' shit, and then drugged me up and showed me loads of love." Vlad snickered and then let out a laugh as Anderson stared, decoding the information and blinking.

"Oh damn, got me hooked on drugs. I'd go to school and come back, begging for a hit or something, and plus I was dead scared he'd kill me if I didn't come 'home'. Fuck. Loads of fun, fun, fun. Had this whole philosophy he tried to preach about, Man – Child love and shit. Got him a bullet in the head. I laughed when I found him bleeding out on the floor, but I cried when I found out the 'magic powder' was gone. Shit like that is how it all gets started, my dear Anderson. Addiction and freaks do it to ya, before you even know they're there, they mess ya up good." A chuckle rolled off the final statement, and Vlad closed his eyes and dropped flat, his back on the mattress again. "Love and drugs is where it's all at." It was dead silent, and the keys on the keyboard remained unused as Anderson stared at Vlad. Finally, Vlad propped himself up on his elbows and smiled at Anderson. "Did you like the story honey buns, or was it not what you were looking for? You wanted me to say I had a perfect life, loving, caring parents, and that I threw it all away to do drugs and slum it with gangsters?" The smile laughed, disturbing Anderson further. Features flinched behind the bronze frames of the glasses, and then a hand lifted to adjust them so that they were more comfortable.

"I'm sorry."

Vlad stopped laughing, but his smile remained as his teeth shone at the other teen. "What the fuck is that going to do? You should admit that you shouldn't talk when you have no idea about what the hell you're talking about. Same as me and your football shit, Anderson. Now we're even."

Anderson continued to stare at the boy. Then his eyes narrowed. "Is that all true, your story? Is it real or a fabricated lie?"

Vlad cocked his head, frowning. "You think I'd shit with you about something as messed up as that? I'm not lying if you're not lying about being the varsity captain, if you didn't photoshop your poster thing."

It was quiet again, and then a murmur rose up. "How old were you?"

Vlad looked at him and then turned his eyes up to the ceiling. "11. But so what? There's people worse off, and, fuck, it doesn't matter after a while. I would've done drugs anyway, probably." Vlad watched the ceiling for a while, and then looked down at Anderson. He frowned when he saw that the green eyes were still staring at him. "Look somewhere fucking else. You keep staring at me and I'm going to come over there and beat you. I'm going to leave if you don't quit it, stupid bitch."

Anderson cut in with a hard look. "Did you ever tell anyone?"

The red widened, giving an incredulous expression. "Why the hell would I? And nobody ever asked me about anything before. I don't freaken care. I'm just telling you because you asked and all. Go back to your faggot typing or text your fag friends. Jus' don't spread stupid rumors about me. It'd just be annoying to get new crap said behind my back. Nobody's gonna believe you anyhow." Anderson didn't look away, and his expression didn't soften. Vlad scowled and got off the bed. "Can I take a shower while I'm here, or will you try to be a weirdo rapist again and freak me out?"

Anderson jolted, and then stood up and went out the door, showing Vlad where the bathroom was and getting him a clean towel. Vlad thanked him by telling him to 'get the fuck out' and to 'stay out'.

Anderson was glad nothing had happened in that janitor's closet as he sat down in his chair. Who knows what type of diseases that guy might have? Or how crazy he is? Damn good thing this is only temporary, Anderson sighed, as he began to type.

Hell Dog Vlad was a messed up freak. He wanted the guy out of his house as soon as possible.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

It was morning, but the sky was dimly lit by a blue dawn. The trees were rustling as the wind stroked their forms, coaxing their rough voiced song to accompany the wind. Anderson sighed in his sleep as his alarm clock blinked 5:49 A.M. next to him, on his nightstand. The radio would come on in six minutes when the teen was supposed to wake up to the sound of gossiping voices or, if he was lucky, a song he only half-liked. But for now the boy was sleeping, with a steady breathing rhythm moving his chest.

A slight breath of a weight settled over him and the mattress in front of the teen pressed down under the weight of a hand. What woke Alex up was the wet tongue that ran up from his jaw, over his cheek, to the side of his eyebrow. With a gasp, he pulled his head away and lay blinking up at the pale face, bewildered and severely disturbed.

"Did you just lick me?" He gasped, able to breathe again as he glowered up at the smile. He shoved Vlad away before the delinquent responded, making Vlad cackle unpleasantly.

"Yeah, get your ass up, Anderson, it's morning and you're sleeping in on a school day. Get up."

The green eyes narrowed a damning glare at the gangster as he loitered about in Anderson's room. Throwing back the blankets, Anderson stormed over to his closet, wiping his face free of the thin layer of saliva. Disgusting freakazoid. He scowled at his clothes, pulling out the outfit he had picked out the other day to save time he now had too much of. I am never bringing a freaken druggy home again. I'm going to stick to normal guys from here on out. Anderson cast a glare back at Vlad when he wanted to change his clothes, and he ended up finding the gangster slouched in his computer chair, dozing off. "Get out. I'm getting dressed."

Vlad mumbled. "I think I'm gonna go back to sleep for a while."

With a spark of impatience, Anderson grabbed the chair and pushed it forward so Vlad fell off of it, sprawling out onto the carpet. Red followed the shoes that stopped in front of the pale face. Hands helped him up and shoved him along out the door that clicked, informing Vlad that he had been locked out. He stood there, waiting for Anderson to come out. Fifteen minutes later, Anderson was walking down the stairs, still upset that he had been woken up in such a disgusting fashion.

"You're a freak." He spat and Vlad grinned at him, bobbing along with a sauntering gait. "I don't get what you can hope to do with your screwed up life."

Vlad chuckled. "I'm gonna be a fucking pianis'."

Anderson stopped, rubbing his face groggily and then frowning at Vlad. "Did you just say you want to be a 'pee-nis'?"

Now Vlad was frowning, having lost his morning cheer. "No, you fucktard. A pianist. It just sounds weird when you say it but it has the word piano in it. Sounds like 'pee-in-ist', though." His fingers played at the air. "I'm gonna play the piano."

Anderson stared and then a sudden laugh bubbled like an unwanted hiccup from his mouth. He continued to laugh, though he tried to stifle the volume, while Vlad's temper grew hotter with a pale lip being chewed. "Shut the hell up, you faggot. I _am_ going to play the piano one of these days, if I live long enough, you hear? You damn bitch, stop laughing at me."

The growl finally shoved a stopper down Anderson's throat and he coughed into a hand, his smugness coming back as he sneered down at Vlad's sloppy posture and the way he was always moving and speaking with his hands. The jock chuckled at the sight. "I doubt it."

Vlad's eyes burned and a finger was shoved into Anderson's chest, ripping away the teen's humor to leave a scowl in the ruin. "I _will_, you stupid faggot."

Anderson growled back at him, and then smirked and strode away, down a hall, never turning on any of the lights until he had reached his destination. The light showered onto the glistening white of the piano, brightening and enlarging Vlad's pupils as he gaped at it for a moment, broken out of his daze when a hand pushed him forward, causing him to trip over his feet and stumble a bit. He looked back at Anderson, snapping his mouth shut and developing a wry smirk. "You telling me to play a song for you? How romantic."

Anderson derided the sarcasm with his own humor as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I just want to see if you even know how to play."

Vlad scowled at him and stepped up to the gleaming white bench and sat himself down. He glowered back at Anderson and then hunched over the keys, looking at them and thinking. Seconds went by and Anderson's smugness grew. When Vlad finally began to play something, it showed that it was part of a composition, but it was sloppy and extra keys were pressed when they weren't supposed to be. The music oozed out slowly with an inaccurate, varying tempo. "You suck."

"And you swallow, you fucktard! Shut up! I'm jus' gonna warm up, and then I'll be able to play. It's been a while, 'kay? Bitch, stop laughing!" Anderson walked away with Vlad fuming behind him.

"Don't make too much of a racket so early in the morning. I'll get some waffles ready and we'll eat." I'll eat and let you eat your damn waffles alone.

No response came from Vlad, but Anderson noticed that the notes had become muffled. Vlad had pressed his foot down on the left pedal. Anderson was in the kitchen, popping Eggo waffles into the toaster and heating up some maple syrup while Vlad sat at the piano, dulling his notes as he ran through broken warm-ups, trying to remember them and loosen up his fingers. He had to get himself in the mood. It never worked right when he wasn't in the mood. The teen rolled his shoulders back slowly, and then his neck, and his arms, stretching them up over his head. He released them with a long breath and continued to work his shoulder blades, cracking his neck, watching the piano as he moved his fingers wherever they happened to be. Then he pushed on the keys, playing slowly, trying to remember, but blanking out on whole sections of random pieces. It'd just been a while since he'd last played. He calmed himself and sought for the feeling that told him what to play. He wouldn't think, he would just move with the ocean waves. The ocean waves…calm…flowing…working. His fingers moved, and the teen released the left pedal and pressed down on the right one instead, lengthening and drawing out the notes so that they could come and build upon one another. It was a gradual, climaxing, and chilling song. Of course it was. It was a funeral song, rightfully named Elegy. The fingers moved and the teen rocked, eyes sometimes closing.

Anderson froze when the prickling touch swept through his body, drawing a shiver from his spine. Anderson put his fork down and swallowed the tasteless hunk of waffle, leaving the stool to return to the piano room. He stopped behind Vlad, watching as the black form rocked with the music. It's like he's drunk, but not in a really bad way…though it's weird. Super weird, Anderson watched, staring and listening as the notes sped up and then were calmed down again, moving and drifting with a pattern over the keys. So he could play depressing music, so what? Anderson watched for a while longer, and then left. But he continued to listen as he ate his food. Vlad started on another slow song when Anderson was putting away his dishes. He went to his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face before fixing his hair the way he wanted it. He wasn't too particular. He went to his room and grabbed his books, lugging them under his arm as he carried them downstairs and to the piano. Vlad was finishing up a song, moving leisurely up the scale of the piano and ending on a high, ringing note. The boy flinched when Anderson huffed at him crossly.

"Are you going to eat or play through the morning? We have to leave soon." Red eyes were blinking back at him, in a daze. Anderson scowled with distaste. "They're just slow and easy songs. Nothing too great. You should think about getting a real job in the future, if you've got one."

Now Vlad was alert and he hissed at Anderson, infuriated. He stabbed a daggered glare at the boy and turned promptly away from the green eyes, filling his lungs with air and letting it out in a long sigh that loosened his body. Anderson cocked an brow, anticipating what Vlad was going to do, and then he rolled his eyes to the side, spinning on his heal so that he was facing the side of the room as he gave an open mouthed chuckle. He's just banging on it now, isn't he?

The notes were heavy and in a fast, continuous rhythm. First only eight single notes on the left hand, and then two notes right next to each other on the left, and then some right notes were added, all in beats of four. Four and four, eight of the same notes. God was it obnoxious, Anderson scowled and walked forward to pull the delinquent away from the instrument, but then the annoying pattern broke and rapid, clear and fluid notes rolled up and down with the right hand, broken by a repetition of left notes shouting out after the lighter, nimbler notes, and then the light notes returned, just as blindingly fast. It was surreal to watch the pale thin fingers dart around that quickly. Anderson hovered over the black shoulder, watching in awe even as the annoying parts came back. It was building up into a pleasant kind of song, fast and sometimes thick…like snow falling and mountains. It was an obscure image, but he watched it wordlessly.

Then it exploded into a flurry of rapid notes chasing one another down to compose the resulting song. Air caught in Anderson's throat as he watched, never able to take his mind from the music or the moving fingers. They had numbed him.

Now Anderson recognized a segment of the song, but he hadn't the faintest clue as what the name could be. He just listened and watched the inhuman speed and precision.

Fuck this druggy freak. He was a pianist freak as well. This guy creeped Anderson out, but it also drew him in. It was just so damn fascinating…

The notes never slowed, not even at the end. They just cut off from their rhythm and lingered in the air for a full four counts, and then the piece was complete and the music had expired.

The entire effect was brutally shattered when Vlad jerked up in his seat with a beaming grin on his face, turning back to Anderson. "Fuck! That was fuckin' perfect shit, Anderson! You'll see. I'm going to beat every other pianist's freaken ass out there one day. Now fess up and say I'm amazing, you bastard."

Anderson frowned at the language and cleared his dry throat, swallowing. "Sure, perfectly amazing, especially the personality that came back afterwards. Okay- Get in the kitchen and bring your waffles in the car. We're going to school now and some gangster's going to stab you in the ass during passing period. Come on." Anderson sighed heavily as he turned away from the staggered expression on Vlad's face. The pale teen cursed profanities as he recalled his position.

"Aw fuck it, Anderson. I'm just going to stay here."

"My mom will take you to jail, then."

"Damn it, I'd rather go to school than get my ass raped. Fine. Lead me to my waffles and let's get the hell out of here."

"You're holding your waffles…"

"-Oh yeah."

Anderson shook his head in disbelief. How in God's Holy name had this freak pulled off that song? And he's worse than yesterday, completely out of it and jittery. Probably needs a cigarette or some drugs in his blood stream. Disgusting. Why did I bring him home? Anderson threw his textbooks in the trunk and then threw himself onto the driver's seat. He gave a tired side glance to the teen that was wolfing down his waffles, getting plenty of crumbs on Anderson's leather seats as the car started and they backed out with the door for the garage rising. Vlad peered around Anderson to get a good look at his house.

"Fuckin' rich ass house. I slept in that house last night, Anderson. How freaken cool is that? Awesome. Fancy ass house, piano, and then waffles. I'm going to have a hell of a nice day."

Anderson grumbled to himself as water splattered on his car, dripping from the trees and leaving dirty streaks on the glass. All that banging on the piano, and his mom still hadn't gotten up to check out what it was…

"Thanks for last night."

Frozen green eyes rotated to Vlad, watching the side of the pale face look out the front window and then smirk at him, pale hands moving with the words. "You got me waffles and all that other stuff. I mean, pretty much nobody can stand to be around me for that long. You're fucking solid, and you're the best faggot I know. Actually-" Vlad began to speak to the window now instead of looking at Anderson. "You're the only faggot I really know- WHATTHEFUCK! TREETREETREE! FUCK! TREE-!"

Anderson jolted at the yells and was pushed to the side as Vlad claimed the steering wheel from him and took them away from the tree they were on a collision course with, leaving the paved driveway for a moment before Vlad took them back to it. Anderson grabbed the wheel and snarled at the gangster to take his hands off it while Vlad yelled at him to watch where the 'fuck' he was 'fucking' driving his 'goddamn fucking' car.

With a car full of yelling voices and waffles crumbs, the two made their way to school with a drizzle dusting the sunroof of the car.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

At lunch, green eyes viewed the Hell Dog-less bench across the quad, taking a bite of the sandwich he had bought a few minutes ago after waiting through a long line with some friends. He looked away from the bench, indifferent to the gangster's absence. He didn't see Hell Dog during the rest of the school hours. After school, Anderson made a beeline for his car after getting some errands out of the way, talking to a teacher and then organizing something with two of his friends. He made it home without the Hell Dog freak, bringing a bright smile to his face when he closed the garage door and took his keys from the car's ignition.

Humming a cheery tune, the teen wandered through his house, up to his room, never turning on a single light or shutting the door. It was a bright enough sunset outside anyway, with the sun a few inches above the horizon. Anderson watched the colored sky for a while, soaking up the silence all around him. With a sigh, the boy went through his textbooks to take care of what homework that had accumulated after a day of school.

He should've brought someone home today. That stupid freak had made him forget how much he hated being alone in this house. Hell Dog was a curse worse than silence.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

No Hell Dog, it was 4:30 P.M. and Anderson was walking down the hall that brought him past the neglected janitor's closet. The kind of curiosity that kills felines magnetized Anderson's hand so that he was drawn back to the storage closet, his hand sucked towards the door handle. He opened the door partially, peering in for a moment before he swung the door all the way open. Anderson blinked at the emptiness, looking at 'Vlad's wall' and then the others. Maybe the freak had gone somewhere else, or maybe he was dead already? Hm. The tan turned to shut the door, but at the last moment, as he pushed the door a little when he was turning to leave, he noticed that it rebounded off of something. Stopping the door that swung back to him, Anderson stared at it, slowly stepping back and allowing the door to close on its own. The black form pressed against the wall behind the door stared at him, paralyzed for a moment before he recognized Anderson, and then his whole body exhaled with relief, slumping his previously rigid posture and making the pale lips sigh. Red eyes flashed with a mild glare when Vlad recovered, wearing a tight frown. "You just love to freak me out, don't ya?"

Vlad looked away, moving along his wall, further from the door, and then leaned heavily against it while Anderson's eyes failed to leave him.

The guy looked horrible, with shadowed eyes and gauntness apparent. Vlad looked like a terminally ill hospital patient. Well, he'd probably been without drugs or food for a while. The teen's strange twitchy exhaustion was a testimony to that. Vlad peered up at Anderson and then looked away, and then peered up at him again, doing this constantly until Anderson scowled in disgust, reprimanding himself for opening the door as he turned to leave. Vlad quickly cut in a question before Anderson's hand had fully gripped the handle of the door. "You don't happen to have any cigarettes on you? Or food? Just asking…"

Green looked back at the red over Anderson's shoulder. "No."

Vlad blinked but his hand gestured at Anderson. "Got gum? I could do with some gum…if you've got some extra."

"I'm all out." Anderson's attention went back to the door, but Vlad's voice stopped him again, drawing a growl from Anderson's chest.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I am a hundred percent sure that I'm out of gum." The jock snipped back, wrenching open the door and starting to leave. He lurched with widening eyes when Vlad caught his arm to stop him. Now Anderson glowered at the red eyes and pulled away sharply to end the contact. "What do you want?" He demanded heatedly.

"Can I come to your house for tonight?"

Anderson lost the glower to this unexpected question, gazing at the boy until his brow crinkled at the thought. "No. You're not my problem."

Vlad stared at him, refusing to give up though he was cautiously glancing around Anderson to make sure no one could see them. He looked at Anderson. "You brought me to your home last time. What's different?"

"I don't want you in my house." Anderson replied blankly and then left with Vlad reaching for him with a hand that missed its target. Anderson strode down the hall again, waiting to hear the door shut behind him. He heard it shut and closed his eyes in a moment of acknowledgement of a trouble that had been avoided, and he opened his eyes and looked at Vlad who was walking beside him. Anderson's face deadened, and he halted in mid stride. Vlad stopped with him.

"I won't bother you. I won't do anything."

"No." Anderson breathed out, amazed and angered by the teen's persistence. "Leave me alone." Anderson tried to leave Vlad behind, but the pale teen followed him like a ghost.

"Anderson, c'mon."

"Get away from me!"

"I'm asking nicely. No cussing. No nothin'. C'mon. I make a good pet. I'm house broken. I won't shit on your carpet. I'm a good pet and it's not like you have anyone who's going to tell you, you can't bring me home."

Anderson's eyes sparked as he ground his teeth, anger slowing his pace and making his steps heavier.

"Come on. Anderson…I'm going to die in that fucking closet. I'm gonna to get killed if I leave the campus, if I go anywhere and get caught. I've seen fags get beaten to death... I jus' need a place to stay. I'm all done with the throwing up part."

The words caught Anderson's interest, stopping him when he was about to open the door to reach the campus, ready to shove Vlad away if he had to. "Throwing up part?"

Vlad blinked up at him, and then cast his eyes aside, allowing them to wander when he bit his lip sharply and muttered. "I couldn't keep your food down, but I cleaned it up so you couldn't even notice any smell or anything. I've done it before, just use the cleaning shit under the sink that's supposed to work for bathrooms, and nobody's the wiser. I lost your waffles at school, though. But that's all over with…"

Anderson's eyes were wide, revulsion quivering his lips. "You threw up at my house? Which bathroom? And like hell I would trust your cleaning." The snarl turned red eyes up to Anderson, with a pale scowl.

"I cleaned it up! It was just the one by the room I was in, alright? You bitch, and what the fuck do ya mean you can't _trust_ my cleaning? My cleaning is damn good work!" Not going to tell him I also used some of his mouthwash now.

Anderson pushed the door open and went on without Vlad, sobering the gangster who shuffled after him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Anderson. I won't call you a bitch anymore. Just, I need some food-" Vlad tripped up when Anderson's arm bumped him away when he got too close.

"You're a freak. I don't want you anywhere near me. You _are not_ my problem."

"C'mon…"

"Leave me alone and _don't_ _touch me!_" Anderson pushed Vlad away when a pale hand grabbed his jacket, sending the boy stumbling backwards where he eventually fell. Vlad sat there, without looking up, gazing dimly at the concrete with Anderson's shoes in his peripheral vision. A little taken aback by the fall, Anderson's head whipped about, worried someone had witnessed the exchange, but the only person he could see was too far away, and wasn't even coming in their direction. He looked down at Vlad, at an angle that allowed him to see partially down the boy's jacket. He could see an off-white shirt as he watched the black jacket move with breaths. Vlad was too exhausted to stand up and continue to bother him.

The guy looked like he had gone through chemo without losing his hair. Like he had poisoned his own body to expel the harmful entity that was trying to destroy him… Anderson stared at the disturbing scenario, the desperate, dangerous, no good to be around, criminal, druggy, gangster Hell Dog begging for help, practically. What reason did Anderson have that would make it his obligation to help the freak, in the process of which he could potentially be endangering his own life? Nothing. Hell Dog was not his problem. So Anderson turned and began to walk away.

"Anderson."

Curiosity again would not allow Anderson to keep walking, it forced him to turn around and look at Vlad. The delinquent was still on the ground, his hands behind him on the concrete.

"What?" Anderson's impatience sharpened his tone, but he didn't care. He would never speak to other people this way, it was unthinkable. But this was some scumbag, barely a human being, that didn't deserve an ounce of respect. Vlad was watching him, a face without emotion.

"Can you let me stay at your house and have some food?"

Anderson scowled. "I already told you, NO. You. Can. Not. Get somebody else."

"I don't have anyone else. They all want to fuckin' rip my guts out and then piss on them. I could go to some person I don't know, but what're the chances that they'll want to have me in their house? You're just the only guy who I even have a goddamn smidge of a chance with, Anderson." Vlad watched as Anderson lost his haughty impatience and actually listened to him. At this point, Vlad got to his feet, but stood his ground to show that it was Anderson's decision in the end. "I promise I won't do anything bad. I won't throw up again, I'm over it. I just need some food and a place where I know somebody's not going to walk through the door and shoot me, okay?"

No way, not in a million years, Anderson's heart, mind, and soul sang out with a passion, but he considered it in another light and his mind began to have second thoughts, taking with it his heart. Better to have the freak at home than going there and having it be empty. At least he's a human I can talk to, to some extent. And he hasn't been cussing as much as before… To hell with reason, might as well adopt the dog for another day. It doesn't all seem to be so dull with the little freak there. "Fine. I'll take you to my house, feed you, clean you up, and what not. Just don't do anything that's too inherent to your freaky nature."

Vlad stared at him, stunned by a blow of disbelief that had connected with his stomach. Anderson had to growl at him and start to walk away for the boy to snap out of his daze and follow. Vlad got in the passenger seat of the car, putting on the seat belt and holding onto the seat and the car door to make sure it wasn't going to disappear, to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. As the motor started, the seat and the door didn't fade away, and Vlad could feel and hear Anderson's presence beside him. Red gazed at the tan face until it frowned at him and asked him what his problem was. Then Vlad knew that this wasn't a hunger induced delusion, and he let out a choked laugh and slumped down in his seat, releasing the tension that had been stored in his body for the past two days. He closed his eyes with a sigh that killed off his laughter.

Anderson, who was quite put off by the strange laughing, watched the road with a constant frown, wishing that he had left the delinquent in his closet. What good was he anyway? Anderson lost his frown for a moment, but it only went to his eyes when he glanced at the slumped passenger beside him. No use even looking at the guy, Anderson sighed to his steering wheel and then turned with the black line of the road before him. "What was the name of the fast song you played?"

It took a moment, but a mumble reached Anderson's ear. "Winter…by some dude named Vivaldi."

So it had been snow.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Anderson scrutinized the toilette, looking for signs of vomit, but he found none and sat back on his haunches, aggravated about the task he had just forced himself to do, inspecting at a fucking toilette…if he hadn't hated Vlad before, he did now. He should drive the little freak to the ghetto and push him out of the car and watch the scumbags rip him apart. But then he'd go to jail…wasn't worth it. Anderson sighed with these thoughts, a disappointment Vlad misinterpreted. The pale lips grinned crookedly as the delinquent leaned on the doorframe with his hands in his jacket's pockets.

"You could eat food off of that thing. Look at it glisten, Anderson. Best lookin' shit bowl I've ever seen."

Anderson gave him a tired glare and then got to his feet and trudged down the stairs to the kitchen with Vlad scampering after him like an excited puppy, at the thought of food. "What do you want?" Anderson sighed and then frowned as he saw the hands that were gripping the side of the counter with anticipation.

OHMYGODFOOD, were Vlad's thoughts, and he was convinced for a moment that he was going to faint, but he didn't. "Anything, absolutely anything. Anything edible I'll eat."

A tan hand opened the refrigerator and pushed things around to get a look at its contents. He needs something easy to digest so he doesn't throw up in my house again…green eyes narrowed on a bulbous jar with a yellow top. The teen took it out and brought it with him as he went to go fetch a bowl from the cupboard, doubting Vlad's ability of self control. The guy would probably take up the jar and start chugging the contents. Anderson could just imagine it. When he turned, with a spoon, a bowl, and the jar, Vlad was staring at him with large, blood-shot eyes. It made Anderson shiver and look away. Ugliest damn gay guy ever made.

The objects hit the counter and Anderson unscrewed the jar to pour a quarter of the contents into the bowl that he slid over to Vlad after stabbing a spoon into it. Vlad blinked at it and then snatched up the spoon to start shoveling the food into his mouth, pausing long enough to look up at Anderson. "I like applesauce."

"Nice to know. Eat it and I'll make us smoothies for tonight, later. And eat SLOWLY, you'll throw up again and then I'll have to kill you and that'll be troublesome."

"'kay. Thanks for the food. I mean it."

Anderson watched Vlad bend over the bowl, painfully making himself eat the food slowly with a shaking hand that sometimes spilled the sauce back into the bowl. Vlad didn't say a word as he ate, entirely absorbed in the task and the immense relief the nourishment was giving him. It was just amazing, this food, Vlad closed his eyes and then opened them again. Anderson left the kitchen and went to his room to take care of school related work. He didn't have that much, but watching Vlad was impossible. Seeing the freak churned his stomach, the guy was just so worthless and pathetic.

Guys like him should just be shot…put them out of their misery.


	2. Chapter 2

Vlad's cussing is not a reflection on drug users or gang members. He cusses a lot for his own reasons. Plant growth sometimes depends more on climate rather than seasons; seen this summer when leaves began to turn red on the trees in mid-July. (we had a relatively cool summer) I'm not a plant expert, so even if this is wrong please just go with the flow. :) Stories are for fun, amusement, and practice.

I found out that JAIL is a real TV show...but it has nothing to do with psychology...mainly just drunk and angry people being locked up in cells with a camera guy filming them, pissing them off even more.

If you have read Empty Room With A Song and noticed that the gang that I have created is not realistic, I did that on purpose. 'Soda in case you don't feel like drinking alcohol' - is not found in this fic.

ramble ramble blah blah blah

Chapter 2 ^w^

* * *

The applesauce had not been enough. Of course it hadn't been enough, Vlad licked his lips, having done the same to his spoon and bowl moments ago. His stomach rumbled with a hunger the sauce had awakened. Vlad winced at the sound and the empty hollowness in his gut and throbbing temples. Red eyes instantly flicked to the different cupboards as the teen moved towards them, licking his lips absently. The crackers…Anderson had given them to him before, so the jock wouldn't care if he ate them…and maybe a piece of bread on the side… Cupboards were opened and closed quietly, despite Vlad's conclusion that Anderson wouldn't mind that he was taking extra food. It took a while, but the crackers were uncovered and quickly demolished. Vlad finished off with a piece of whole wheat bread he found in a drawer that rolled out towards him when he opened the door. Awesome. Vlad breathed with deep sigh, his eyes fluttering close as he reclined against the granite counter, sitting on a stool. He ate the bread slowly, his eyes roaming when they opened again. They settled on the window hanging over the sink. No rain, but the sky was a continuous, smoky gray.

God, did he need a cigarette. God…damn…just something… The teen took a breath and another bite of his bread. It was almost gone.

Vlad went up the stairs and through Anderson's door. He stared at the empty room, blinking as seconds moved on without him. Where could the guy have gone? Glancing around to make sure Anderson wasn't hiding in a corner or under his desk, Vlad left the room and descended the stairs, dithering at the bottom as he tried to decide where the teen could have gone. Vlad backtracked to the kitchen to see if they had just missed each other. No one was there...

Red widened, having clearly caught a flash of color passing by the window out of the corner of his eye. So he'd gone outside? Vlad looked for a door, moving along the side of the house the kitchen window peered through. He found a door with glass windows that allowed him to observe the teen that was kneeling on the red clay tiles. Anderson was reaching over a small fence that rimmed a wide wooden planter. There were numerous, mostly stout, plants growing out of it. Vlad blinked, staring as he saw one of the boy's hands reach for a bag, showing off his brown gardening gloves.

The door was opened and shut silently, with Vlad softening his steps, approaching the other teen. The pale teen stood behind Anderson for a while, stepping closer to peer down at the plants the tan teen was transplanting from a few small pots. A green stem with nubby leaves, that's all they could be during the winter…Vlad assumed while watching as gloved hands gently patted down the fertile earth around one of the green little plants. Anderson picked up a sharp spade, lifted out a section of dirt in a few scoops and commenced the process of planting the next green, leafy stem, putting down a little of the special soil he kept in a white sack beside him, and going on from there. At this point Vlad moved to the side of the sack, keeping it between Anderson and his self, still watching as a baby plant was put into the hole and tucked in by caring fingers, more special dirt added without Vlad being noticed. Now Anderson frowned, reaching over to rip out the body and roots of a weed that had tiny, chubby leaves on it. He dropped it on the tiles carelessly and went on with his work. Vlad stared at the plant that had been cast aside, his lips beginning to frown as well. A pale hand sought one of Anderson's emptied pots while another dipped into the sack, stealing a fistful of soil that was dropped into the pot before the weed followed. More stolen soil was used to pack the weed down firmly in place. Vlad smirked at the little plant and set it on the ridge of the wooden box structure. Anderson finally noticed him when Vlad had returned his hands to his lap, sitting back on his heels and watching the gloves again.

First green eyes widened in surprise and Anderson drew in a sharp breath, but then he released it with an angered huff and the eyes narrowed into a hostile glare. The sharp shovel pointed at Vlad, darkening the boy's previously easy expression. "What are you doing?" Anderson demanded in a voice that was sharper than his shovel's blade. The spade was thrust forward a little with his words.

The delinquent was quiet, looking back at the burning, emerald irises, his mouth a line. "Watching."

The spade recoiled ever so slightly, and then was stabbed into the soil within the planter with a scowl adding another voice to the pierced earth. A glove pointed towards a random direction, behind Vlad. "Go away…there, _far_ away. And leave me alone."

Red gazed at the hand and then the tan face, sparking and dimming after a moment. With a rebellious air, Vlad stood, snatched up his little pot and plant, and began to walk away, but green eyes noticed the pot and Anderson jerked, rising up on one knee as he saw that Vlad was taking it away. "Hey! That's _my pot_. What the hell are you taking it for?"

The gangster had stopped and turned to face him before rotating the pot to the degree that allowed Anderson to view the plain little plant he had thrown away. Anderson saw it and watched blankly as Vlad began to leave again, but his daze was short lived. "Hey! You can't just take it! _HEY!_"

Anderson was on his feet and advancing on the delinquent, prepared to use force to retrieve the pot if he had to. But he didn't have to use force. Vlad stopped in front of the windowed door and held the pot before his chest. This encouraged Anderson to calm and stand a few paces from the other teen and hold out a glove expectantly. His eyes flared as his pupils shrunk when nothing happened, and a scowl rippled through his lips. Vlad's arms laced together, hugging the pot comfortably as he watched the shifting degrees of fury in the tan face. Vlad was the first to speak, through his own unkind scowl. "Leave the plant in the pot."

The pupils dilated, dimming the green. But the scowls persisted. "It's just a stupid weed-"

"Well, the fucking _weed_ wants to fucking _**live**_, you goddamn fag bastard!" Vlad flared in a fluctuating, yet controlled, voice that surprised Anderson for a moment, before it angered him further, dropping his hand to form a fist by his side.

"It's just a freakin' WEED!"

"The freakin' _WEED_ wants to freakin' _LIVE_! You stupid bitch!"

"God…! You…! Argh!" What the hell is going on? Dirt sprinkled Anderson's hair as his hands clasped together and hovered over his head, turning his feet with a long breath to control his anger. He blinked at the yellow wooden fence that surrounded the backyard garden, giving airy curses and glowering as his brow jumped between emotions. "Just…" He began with a calm sigh, without looking at Vlad for fear of losing control. "Just…give me my damn pot back. I don't care if you're some tree hugging freak of a criminal…give me my goddamn pot back."

The muscles in Vlad's arms jumped at the words 'tree hugging', feeling the form of the pot he was currently 'hugging'. He frowned, but his anger was diminishing. "Why are you gardening in the winter?"

Anderson's features tightened and his teeth snapped. "Because the climate around here doesn't change much anyway. I grow plants all year round if I want to. These ones aren't dormant in the winter or anything… And the green house needs more room-!"

"Green house?"

A monotone replied. "A place where-"

"I _know_ what it is, dumbass. But…you have one here?" Vlad looked around, still hugging the plant as his curiosity flew off with his limited attention span. "Like, right here? AT you're fuckin' house?"

Anderson watched the teen's growing curiosity play with gaunt expressions. Hostility heated his blood, suddenly, without warning, and Anderson strode forward and grasped the pot in Vlad's arms, pulling it free when he wasn't met with any resistance. The jock then marched back to his planter and kneeled down again, ready to finish transplanting the last few stems. But…the pot… Anderson stared down at the thin, vine-like stem of the weed and the thick leaves that grew from it. It's just a freakin' weed, for God's sake.

"Don't take the weed out."

Anderson flinched and threw a glare up at the pale boy standing by his side, a little behind him, and then shifted the look to the weed. With a creased brow, Anderson forced himself to put the pot on the tiles, and resumed his work. Vlad watched for a time, but the cool air and the strengthening wind was beginning to roughen his skin with a chill, so he went inside and found himself drawn to the bed in the spare bedroom upstairs.

Vlad buried himself in the lush covers, curling up comfortably before falling asleep.

When he woke, the digital clock on the dresser by the wall said that it was 6:43 P.M. The delinquent watched the clock, waiting for it to turn to 6:44 P.M., once it had, he rolled slowly out of the bed and left the spare room. Looking across the hall, he saw that the door to Anderson's room was left wide open, so he naturally went into the room to see what the other teen was up to. The room was empty. Blinking, red eyes inspected the room, attracted to the window behind Anderson's desk when he saw movement. It was raining, more like drizzling, but as the rain became audible, hitting the roof, he could tell that it was strengthening. So Anderson couldn't be outside…

Vlad left the room and descended the stairs, shuddering off a feeling of lightheadedness, and the teen searched the kitchen, the hallways, and any open room that didn't have a door. The dinning room, the room with the piano…he opened a door and found himself in a wide open part of the house that included the living room and the front door. Retracing his steps, Vlad returned to the kitchen and went down the hall that would take him to the garage. Opening the door, feeling the cold metal of the doorknob, the boy opened the door and peered into the dark garage. To his amazement…it was empty.

Anderson's car was gone.

Maybe I'm just dreaming and I never woke up at all. Vlad shut the door and stood in the gloomy hall. The whole house was gloomy with shadows, the lights turned off, and dead silent. The gangster stared at his arm for a moment, and then he pinched it, wincing from the unpleasant pain. Nope. He was awake. So…what the hell?

Wander. Wanderwanderwander. Wander. Vlad walked through the house, looking at the furniture and other things it contained, stopping in the kitchen to take another piece of bread and then a Nature Valley bar he found in the corner of one of the cupboards. It was crushed and broken in half, but he still ate it as he continued to wander. Dumping the remaining contents of the package in his mouth, Vlad returned to the kitchen and searched for a trashcan. He opened the doors at the bottom of the sink and found a trashcan hooked to the inside of the door, so he threw away his trash, found the old package for the crackers he had eaten, which had been left on the counter, and threw that away as well. Without any purpose to fill his life again, the teen went to Anderson's room and looked around. Finding the gray laptop on the absent teen's desk, the delinquent decided to amuse himself by opening the laptop. There was no password. What a dumbass.

Vlad snickered as the computer screen switched from the blue background to Anderson's desktop, but there the snickers stopped and the pale teen stared blankly at the open Word Document that obviously contained whatever the teen had been working on the last time Vlad was in the other teen's room. An essay or something…boring…but… Vlad growled at the screen and then shut the laptop with an annoyed huff. He wasn't going to mess with the jock's school stuff, that was just unfair…totally not okay. And Anderson was helping him out. No. MORE than just helping him out. The guy was saving his fucking life, no way he'd repay the bastard by screwing with his homework. That was something a real scumbag would do. He was not a scumbag. No matter what the other assholes said, he was not scum. He had some morals in him.

So Vlad sat idly in Anderson's desk chair, swiveling around absently and then continuing to swivel because it became addictive. Vlad only stopped because it was making his stomach hurt and his head was throbbing in protest. His whole body was pissed off at him right now. It wanted something, and he wasn't able to give it what it wanted. With a drooped neck leaving his chin to rest on his chest, Vlad closed his eyes, wincing once in a while.

I could try smoking part of my weed…

Red flew open at the thought, but not out of excitement, it was out of a sudden upsurge of humor that filled the empty house with laughter. Smoke my weed? Weed and _weed_? Fuck! Hilarious! And I don't even _like _marijuana that much! Shit makes me cough too much and the smell's shit for my nose. But magic powder sounds _so _damngood right now. Or a cigarette. Cigarette, oh cigarette, where is my nicotine? Oh well… The teen sighed, slouched in the chair and staring dully at the silver-grey laptop.

Fancy ass laptop. Fancy ass house. Fancy ass freaken everything… Tan skin…captain of the football team…probably great in school…money…a freaken kinda normal, safe life… Fuck. I'd like to be Alex Anderson. I really would…

Heh.

That's kinda funny…for some reason. Vlad closed his eyes and let himself limply find a comfortable position to sit.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Anderson was not pleased to find the humanoid mass that was considered as qualified to own the right to be called a human being, sitting in his chair, asleep and oblivious of the staring eyes.

Blue eyes stared at the inhumanly white skin and the unhealthy shadows that marked Vlad's eyes, blonde hair framing the blue-eyed male face until it was brushed back by a hand that found it to be stifling. The slim, healthy figure stood beside Anderson, arms hanging by his sides until they crossed over his chest thoughtfully. The golden hair drifted to the side when the stranger cocked his head.

"I've seen plenty of stoners before, but this guy's freaky even for their standards." Blue flicked to Anderson to find that the teen was frowning at the sleeping form. "Is he a meth addict? Maybe?"

Anderson shook his head slowly, in wide sweeps, still watching the gangster with a look of quiet abhorrence. "Don't know. Don't really want to know." For the first time since he'd entered the room and found Vlad in his chair, Anderson looked at his new guest and sighed. "I'm sorry. I hadn't meant for you to even have to see him if you didn't want to. When I left he was sleeping in the spare bedroom across the hall. Casey, if he bothers you I can-"

Casey smirked grimly and turned his eyes back to the delinquent. He released his arms and let one swing up to touch Anderson's shoulder, patting it a few times as he sighed. "I'm fine. It's not such a big deal, Alex. But…I'm not sure you should let someone like this into your house." Anderson's lips twitched with a sad grimace, thoroughly regretting his decision to bring Vlad to his house a second time. Casey patted his shoulder again and gave a reassuring, though incomplete, smile to the teenager. "We'll just move him back to the other room and let him sleep." Now the blue eyes adopted a new luster that unconsciously stole Anderson's attention, and the teen looked down at the sea of heated color, his mind calming as Casey spoke in a soothing, sensuous voice. "I'm sure this little matter won't be too troublesome."

"Ya fags, just fuck already."

Both of the blondes flinched and jerked to stare at the bored pale face, Vlad's deep red eyes stunning Casey so that he didn't think to comment on the delinquent's words. But Anderson scowled at Vlad, emerald eyes brimming with aversion. He snapped back with a growl. "Shut up. What are you doing in my room? I didn't give you permission to come in whenever you-"

Vlad cut the teen off by slipping further down into the desk chair, almost laying down on it, rather than sitting. He gave Anderson a halfhearted sneer. "You left me here to go pick up your fuck buddy. Shit if I care for your privacy, and hell, how was I supposed to know you didn't want me in your room? You got to communicate to people. What if I'd decided to rob ya, or set your house on fire? Not smart at all."

His chest full of indignation, Anderson ground his teeth in anger while Casey's expression had soured significantly so that he too was glaring at the gangster who watched them without a response. "Fine." Anderson let out with an abrupt scoff, smiling unpleasantly. "If I'm going to do the smart thing, you'll find yourself dropped off at the nearest crack house, back in your proper habitat."

Vlad visibly lost the light of life in his eyes as they flickered and then descended to the horizon of the carpet and the wall. "So…you want me in the other room again? I gotcha, and I'm going, alright?" Fucking bastard…damn him…damn the stupid faggot. Vlad got out of the chair awkwardly, because of how he was sitting, and only glanced at Anderson with one last hint of a spark in his rebellious nature, and he walked out of the room, ignoring the newcomer completely. This irked Casey and narrowed blue eyes followed the delinquent out of the room as the blonde stood with Anderson who was biting the side of his mouth in frustration, preparing to apologize to his guest when Casey took the initiative to speak.

"Well, isn't he just a bundle of delight?" Sarcasm dripped from his voice and it was a dead look of irritation that was given to Anderson, making the teen become slightly nervous.

"I'm sorry. Before you called- I wouldn't have brought him here if I had known- Just, I know it's stupid. I'm stupid…and I'm sorry…hm?" A tan hand ran up and down Casey's shoulder in a soothing way that managed to dislodge the bitterness in the blue eyes, warming them again. Casey smiled at the teen with a humored sigh.

"Fine. I'll forgive you if you make me dinner. Or…both of us, together, maybe?"

Anderson beamed, a sparkle of pure joy flashing in his smile. "Sure."

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

I smell food.

Vlad ears practically pricked up, wide awake and alert, when the faint fragrance seeped into the room. He stared at the door for a moment, visualizing the smell and then following the scent with his mind to guess what it could belong to. Unsure as to the identity of the food, Vlad decided to investigate for himself and possibly snatch up something in the process. Down the stairs the delinquent went, following the mouth watering scent. Through the hall and into the kitchen, he found the evidence left behind by a mysterious chef…but the sauce pan and a skillet found on the stove were relatively empty. Red gazed at the scraps of remaining food, a little uncomfortable with his position. He was hungry. Anderson had told him that he would make him a smoothie tonight for dinner so he wouldn't throw up. He had already stolen Anderson's crackers, his old abused Nature Valley bar, and two pieces of bread. And Anderson had already given him a bowl of applesauce and a whole room to himself to sleep in, with an actual bed, not even just the floor or the couch. And it was a nice bed, and the room was warm. If he bugged the guy when Anderson was probably trying to do something romantic to impress or seduce that blonde with the longish hair… But he kinda wanted that smoothie… He kinda _really_ wanted that smoothie. He was scared to go without it. If Anderson refused to ever help him again, when would be the next time he'd be able to find food?

I wanna eat. That's not so much, right? Could have more applesauce…don't have to cook that, and I can do that by myself. Vlad stood up straighter, blinking at the stove with a hint of a smile. Yeah. Get him to let me have applesauce. A big-ass bowl of applesauce. Good enough for me. I like applesauce.

So Vlad sniffed at the air thoughtfully and followed the scent to its other source in what appeared to be the dining room. The two were eating together and talking, their voices preceding their appearance in Vlad's eyes. For the first time, Vlad took a good look at Casey, and as he continued to look and as the two noticed him, he frowned.

This guy was not in high school. He had a mature, independent air about him, somehow hovering above Anderson as they sat there… Vlad flinched when he was swept back into reality as Anderson glowered a demand for an explanation, and then asked, "What do you want?" with a pissed off, slightly troubled expression.

Vlad held up his hands, as if he were being threatened with a gun, attempting to ease Anderson's uneasy aggravation. Casey's face was unreadable, but it was obvious he was not happy, and this upset Anderson. Vlad could see it all, as clear as the sky after a thunderstorm. "Jus' wanted to know if I can help myself to some applesauce. You don't need to get up or nothing, I got it if you say I can have some more."

Anderson blinked, taken aback by this and his sluggish mind grasped his old memory when he had told Vlad he would make the delinquent a smoothie, both of them smoothies. But it was irrelevant. Casey had called and everything had been changed. Damn it. He shouldn't have taken the freak home. Just get rid of him. Anderson motioned rudely for Vlad to leave the room, shooing him away. "Eat the whole jar if you want, okay? Just try not to bother us…and you have to eat in the kitchen. Food isn't allowed upstairs." Hope you choke on the glass and die in a hole.

Vlad nodded curtly and evacuated the room, uneager to provoke the blonde teen at the moment…or the man with the fine features and the sapphire blue eyes. Casey was beautiful, more beautiful than most women, and he sure as hell _could_ pass for a teenager at a first glance, but to be in his presence and to speak with him, you could tell he was no boy. Though, he wasn't necessarily old. In his early twenties, probably, Vlad mused as he took out the applesauce jar and then searched the cupboards for a bowl, then the drawers for a spoon. He ate alone, listening to the obscure sounds that were the blondes' voices escaping down the hall to reach Vlad's ears. He heard no words, and he swallowed his cold, soothing applesauce, content as he was right now.

This feeling of content flew to the closed window and smashed into the glass pane until it dropped as a dead carcass in the sink when Anderson and Casey entered the kitchen, both sending glares to the pale delinquent that had a spoon in his mouth as he watched them. Vlad let the spoon stay in his mouth, one hand denting his cheek and propping up his head on the counter he sat at. When they were behind him, washing dishes in the sink, drowning the corpse of Vlad's feelings of comfort in the sudsy water, the blondes did not speak. The gangster ate his applesauce, looking at the jar now, to entertain himself. It's almost all gone. Fuck. I like this stuff. Frowning sadly, Vlad took another spoonful of applesauce into his mouth and closed his eyes.

"I'm going to take a shower, alright?"

Vlad sat up but did not turn around to look at Casey who rubbed Anderson's back and then left the kitchen, red eyes trailing him some of the way. When it was only Anderson and the delinquent, Vlad chuckled at his bowl of applesauce and green eyes twitched with anger while tan features were shadowed by malicious thoughts.

"So he _is_ your fuck buddy."

"_Shut. Up._" Anderson snipped back in a fearsome low voice, alarming Vlad who bolted upright and then peered back at the jock that was still working on the dishes, pulling a greasy pan into the suds. The scraping, rough side of a sponge scrubbed the pan thoroughly. Vlad watched, blinking occasionally.

"He's a college student or somthin', right? Twenty…twenty-two at most, but 'lot older than you."

"Shut up." The pan hit the bottom of the sink, and was lifted out to be scrubbed a second time to make sure all of the grease had been removed. Vlad noticed Anderson's voice had become more reasonable now, and not as deadly.

The delinquent turned to his applesauce with a snort and stuffed his loaded spoon into his mouth. He swallowed and played with the mush in his bowl as his lips became a frown. "Is he your boyfriend? Cuz, I've got ta say you're a damned cheating bastard-"

"He's not my boyfriend."

It was quiet and the stool Vlad was sitting on creaked when he turned to look at the jock's wide back. Anderson put the pan on the drying rack and began to work on a glass. Red wandered over the sink and onto Anderson again, pondering. The gangster spoke somewhat quietly. "Hm. So you like him but he won't do more than eat and sleep with you? That sucks."

Anderson's head whipped to the side to send a one eyed, side glare to the boy, but Vlad was eating his apple mush with his back to Anderson. Green preserved the glare stubbornly for a moment, drilling it into the black hood of the gangster's jacket. "How many times do I have to tell you to shut up? Do you want me to take away your applesauce and make you sleep outside? You can hug your precious weed in the cold."

Vlad sat up, convincing Anderson for a moment that he had managed to intimidate or insult the red-eyed teen, but to his confusion, Vlad got up and ran out of the kitchen. There was the sound of a door opening and several seconds later it closed again and Vlad came sauntering back into the kitchen, grinning at the potted plant. Anderson's eyes widened behind his glasses and then he narrowed them. He decided to roll them in dismissal before returning to his dish cleaning.

"I'm gonna name it. Hey, Anderson? What's a good name for a weed? I was thinking I'd name it Mari, short for marijuana. Cute, right?" Vlad chuckled deviously and then stopped when he heard a jeering scoff from the sink. Vlad set the pot next to his jar of applesauce, his face heavy with world-weariness. His eyes rested on the plant before a white finger shadowed a leaf and then petted it gently. "I'm naming it Mari, you dick. …I hope you can't get it up for your fuck buddy tonight, ya stupid bitch. I'll laugh if you can't. A slap of karma, specially made for bitches like you."

"Enough." Anderson hard voice sobered the gangster, leaving Vlad petting his plant passively. "If you keep this up, I'm going to kick you out of my house. You got that, freak? More of your disgusting comments and you're out, a homeless bum on the street."

I'd be dead as soon as I touched society…when one of them found me, and then got the others. It would be a hunt. All the new bastards trying to make a name for themselves, raise their status, or even just kill a faggot so they can join the gang. Nothing more helpful to society and the gang than murdering an annoying, worthless faggot. They never liked me anyway. I wasn't ever able to do anything for them anyway.

Not realizing that Anderson was standing to his side, watching him, Vlad continued to pet the plant with unfocused eyes and his weary expression. What Anderson saw was an ill-looking druggy, touching his 'weed' forlornly, wishing for a smoke so he could get high. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. "Disgusting." Anderson murmured aloud, startling Vlad who looked at him without an expression, only a blank mask that covered nothing beneath it. Green pierced the red eyes, dipping the pale teen's brow in confusion.

"What? I'm jus' sittin' here and you think it's disgusting? Or are you trying to pick a fight with me about Mari?"

Anderson gave a supercilious look, as if his presence was more than the gangster deserved to have, and the blonde left the kitchen to go up to his room. Vlad glared after him when he was gone, and then committed himself to finishing his bowl of applesauce. Mari silently kept the delinquent company.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Fuck. They're doing it.

Lying on his stomach in bed, Vlad stared at his pillow with a scowl, and then he flipped over to his back and turned his head to watch his plant sit on the drawer cabinet pushed up against the wall. "Fuck, Mari, kids these days think only about sex and drugs and myface and bookspace, whatever the hell they like to call 'em nowadays, right?" Red glared at the wall in mock-anger. "Fags doing it right over there with loud music so we can't even hear. Fuckin' rude bastards. Not like we don't know what they're up to." Vlad sighed to himself and let his eyes drift back to his sad, droopy weed. "Anderson's fucking a college guy, think about that. Wait, never mind, that's freaken screwed up shit. …Damn it! Turn your lame fucking-music down!" The voice wasn't raised, but Vlad threw his false anger into it to continue the act, but afterwards it deflated and he was staring dully at his weed, laying flat on his bed with his head on his pillow. Glad they have music…don't want to hear what's going on in there. Hearing people fuck and moan all the time is annoying. Can't sleep. Wanna sleep, but can't sleep. Man, this sucks. "Mari, mind if I say shit for a while? Right, thought you wouldn't have a problem with that." The gangster took a breath that lifted his chest, and then leveled it out when he exhaled. The line of the zipper running up his jacket dipped bellow his ribcage. "Mari, wha' type of music do you like? I like pretty much anything that's good. Like hard rock, soft rock, metal, scream, classical cuz I'm a fucking weirdo, jazz sometimes, an' yeah, not pop or girly songs…Taylor Swiffer-picker-upper is annoying, but I like some country, 'guess, an' some rap like Eminen…and the Gorillaz people but they play differen' types of music, and I like some street rappers…don' know too many artists though cuz I don't know all of the names of songs I hear randomly, like the one tha's in Anderson's room. It's the radio, got ta be, or something. Not crisp sounding, more radio sounding, know what I mean? Got staticy shit messing with sound so it don' sound perfect or nothin' too great-like, but it's music so it's alright, doesn't matter too much. But my head hurts and my stomachs making weird sounds right now, but I don't feel like hurling anything out righ' now. No. Not that. Just the grumbling that's not hungry grumbling, Mari…you ever get that? Does ya stem or leaves or shit grumble after you eat sun and dirt and water? Mus' suck when you take a sip from the dirt and you find that a dog pissed on it. …You know, I've never really thought much about that, what it's like for plants when bastards decide to take a whizz on them. Shit, mus' suck cuz ya can't even run after the guy ta beat the shit out of the fucker. Hopefully nobody's been taking pisses in Anderson's garden, Ya want to drink water, not piss, right Mari? Yeah, tha's what I thought. Water… Hey, how about I get us some water and we can share? I'll get a paper towel so the water doesn't leak out onto the wood thing…" Bed springs creaked and groaned as the delinquent rolled off of them and went to the door. The music from the blonde's room was louder in the hall, but Vlad ignored it and any other sounds he might have heard if he had been paying attention. Anderson didn't interest him right now. His interest was in water and getting some for Mari because the weed didn't look too happy at the moment. But being in a pot was better than being dead, in Vlad's opinion. He filled a glass with water from the tap, and then poured it out and got water from the dispenser on the refrigerator. He added a few flakes of crushed ice on top so he could watch them melt after he tore off a piece of paper towel from a role on the countertop and went up the stairs, making sure not to spill.

He ignored the room that was oozing music and went into the spare bedroom and gave a crooked smile to the weed. Putting the glass on the carpet, first twisting and turning it to flatten the threads so that the glass wouldn't tip over, the teen folded the paper towel into a small, thick square and then placed it under the pot. He retrieved the glass and poured a bit of the water into the pot and then backed away to see if the soil would soak up the liquid. Vlad took a sip for himself once he saw that the water was being absorbed by the dirt around his weed.

Vlad left the glass on the floor again and lay back down on the bed, lacing his fingers together over his stomach, making the line of the zipper dip further. "You know…maybe they're jus' talking and don't want us to hear? That's probably it. Them talking… Or maybe they really like that music? Could be anything, Mari. Shouldn't jump on the first thing that pops up in ya mind… All sorts of dumb shit gets believed because people assume things…so I'm not gonna right now. Maybe save that for later. For right now, they like music, an' if we hear anything weird, it's jus' that Anderson's killing that other guy. That's it. All there is, Mari. Nothing else, jus' murder and music. M&M better than Eminem…though I like his song Mockingbird…maybe more than chocolate candy things that're like Skittles but ain't Skittles, rainbow without tasting the rainbow… And you know Mari?" Red went to the drooped plant when Vlad moved his head. "I think rainbows are supposed to taste like water. They always come after the rain."

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Vlad noticed when the music disappeared. Whether it had been shut off or lowered, he wasn't sure, but he didn't dwell on it, preferring to watch the ceiling. He heard the door open and close in the hall. "So they're out and about again, Mari, or just taking a shit, who knows?" Then he was quiet as he let his eyes wander over the smooth, flat ceiling above him. No sound existed in the room, even his breaths were soundless, and he breathed with his hands over his stomach.

The breaths hitched and Vlad sat up, his hands ripping apart from where they were twined together when the door was opened without warning. A head with long blonde hair appeared and blue eyes scrutinized the teen. Vlad glared at him, full of hostility as he felt like an animal in an exhibit. "What do ya want? You got to pay to look at me for no fuckin' reason, cuz of annoyance fees, got it?"

His words received an odd look and a frown as Casey watched him for a moment that was too long for Vlad's liking.

"Shit, c'mon. Leave me alone. You'll piss off Anderson, you'll piss off me, it's not good for anybody, right? Now-ah…go, shoo…and stop looking at me like I'm something ta stare at bitch- I mean…damn it." Casey was glaring at him and Vlad draped his arm over his eyes, lying back on the bed. "Leave me 'lone." He mumbled when he knew that the blonde was still there. Then his anger heated as the door refused to close and he sat up to glower at the blue eyes. "Get ya fugly face out! I don't want to see it, 'kay?"

Casey's eyes widened and then creased with a sneer that Vlad knitted his brow at, unable to understand what the man was thinking. Casey sniggered to himself in a forceful manner, one hand resting on the door. "So it's jealousy?"

The delinquent gave the blonde a dead stare, and then his eyes and nostrils flared in outrage. "Bitch! Who the fuck is jealous of what? You're girly face that barely looks like it could have a dick on its body? I mean, hell, I'd rather look like a guy, not a fuckin' cunt! Get out!"

The fine features had soured again, but a lingering smugness remained that made Vlad fume. Casey refused to leave, just to annoy him. Vlad snarled and jumped off the bed, startling Casey who stiffened as the gangster went to him but stopped to glare up at his face.

"Move cunt-face. I'm gonna take a shower since you've got such interest in this room, unless you need to take another one before going back to doing Anderson? Hm?" Casey's ire reddened his face and brightened his eyes, but Vlad didn't care. He pushed passed the blonde and shut himself in the bathroom. He has a different bathroom to use anyway, Vlad frowned to himself, checking to make sure he had a towel on the rack and then stripped off his jacket and other clothes to get in the shower, testing the water that shot out to make sure it wasn't too cold. He shut the glass door and let the water rain down on his hair, his face turned upward with his eyes shut. Once his hair was wet, he added shampoo and rinsed it out before adding conditioner that he let sit in his hair as he rubbed pink soup into a maroon washcloth that hung from a rack that seemed to be specifically made for it on the stone tiled wall of the shower. It was a nice shower, the nicest one he'd ever been in. The first time he had showered in it, he had been fascinated by the patterns in the stone tiles and the design of the shower, but now he didn't care about the shower or the nice smelling soaps and conditioners. He just let the water hit the floor and the drain as he cleaned himself with the washcloth.

The washcloth stopped moving and Vlad stood up straight, listening for a sound he might have heard. His cloth dripped by his side and the water pushed the soup from his skin as he stood, listening and looking through the glass. His eyes narrowed. "Somebody there?"

Quiet. The bathroom felt cooler even though the water was warm. Vlad let the water run, watching for signs of movement through the glass. He thought he heard something a second time and the washcloth was opened to a square and used to cover himself as he bared his teeth in a snarl at the glass. "Get out, whichever faggot perv you are."

"I'm not a pervert."

"Oh fuck!" Vlad jumped at the voice and stepped back to press into the wall as if to make sure he wouldn't be seen. It wasn't Anderson's voice. It was the stranger. The man. It unnerved the gangster, and made his hair stand on end in an aggressive defense. "Get out! Bitch, cunt, bastard, whatever the hell you are! Get out!"

Wide red eyes gazed in horror as a body appeared on the other side of the glass, and a chill roughed his skin with goosebumps before his rage lit a fire in his eyes. Casey smirked as he took in Vlad's form, his malnourished body that was wholly unappetizing. The blonde even chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes wandered over the stark white, boney figure and the maroon cloth that amused him. "Doesn't seem like it takes much to hide whatever you have under there. Now I know it's petty jealousy. If I was you I'd hate me too, and Alex."

Vlad's teeth scrapped together, grinding in pure fury before they parted with a rage filled yell that came out as a shriek. "GET THE FUCK OUT YOU FUCKING PEDOPHILE, BASTARD, CHOMO, _WHORE_! GET OUT! GET OUT! _GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I __**KILL YOU**__!_"

A door had burst open, bristling the pale teen further. His eyes widened from their glower and then became slits as he screamed at the new intruder that had come to investigate, had seen Casey, and though he was confused, was now trying to pull Casey from the bathroom, but Vlad's screaming froze him and took his green eyes to the delinquent.

"OUT!OUT!OUT!OUT! FUCKIN' OUT!"

Casey was removed from the bathroom and the door was shut, leaving the sore-throated gangster to curse to himself as he rushed through the rest of his shower, got out and dried himself off and threw his dirty cloths back on, hung up the used towel, and then threw the door open and slammed it shut again, with a vengeance. He marched to the spare room as Anderson's door opened again, but he slammed the door shut without turning to look at Anderson. Then, facing the door, with his eyes burning with humiliation, anger, and frustration as he was unable to hurt either of the blondes because of his position, he yelled obscenities, his voiced raised to the point that it cracked.

Vlad's voice staggered when the force of the door struck him and he was pushed back and, before he could make sense of what was going on, his jacket was clenched in Anderson's fists and the jock was hissing down as him, loathing brimming in his emerald eyes. His teeth snapped. "Shut up! Shut up and stop being a freak for one night! Turn it off, damn it! And shut the hell up!" The hissing whisper was in Vlad's face, making him wince at the closeness and jerk as he felt his toes strain to stay on the carpet. Vlad glowered at the green eyes.

"THEN TELL YOUR BITCH TO LEAVE ME Auuoo-oh..." The red eyes lost sight to a blur as his head rolled and Anderson shook him into silence. Clenched teeth scowled down at the stunned face and Anderson hissed again, his grip on the black jacket tightening.

"Shut up!" He shook Vlad again. "Just, shut off your freakiness! It's disturbing Casey and it's fucking annoying! SO shut up and stay in here and stop talking about him that way! If you insult Casey one more time I'm going to take you back to where you belong! And there's NO WAY I'm going to consider bringing you home again! Now shut up!" Anderson continued to glower as Vlad's eyes became submissive and he gazed up at Anderson in a chastised, anxious way, brows knitted upwards with his mouth pursing into a dismayed, small frown.

"A-Anderson…yeah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm a freak, 'kay? …But…I…just need a place to sleep and food…I'll make it up to you someday. I'll pay you back when I become a famous pianist, right? C'mon…and can ya put me down? Loosin' some feeling in my arms cuz the jacket's tight and you're kinda holding me up…not nice."

Anderson glanced down at Vlad's feet and was surprised to find that they weren't touching the ground at all. He was so light…it was scary. The teen put the quiet delinquent down and stood, noticing when the pale hands rubbed sore arms. Vlad stepped back for space and watched Anderson's removed, contemplative expression. The jock nodded to himself and pointed at a thin chest. "I want you to apologize to him."

Vlad stared, his mouth moving, left open for a moment. Then he licked his lips nervously, trying not to get angry. "But, Anderson…I mean, seriously, the guy was fuckin' _lookin'_ at me in the freaken _shower_. I was _naked_ and that's not okay. That's not normal for him to think it's okay, 'kay? You get what I'm getting at? He should be apologizin' to _me_. You got it backwards here."

Anderson's lips frowned in disapproval and he shook his head. "Go apologize. I don't care what he did, apologize or you're out of my house in five minutes or less."

Black pupils dilated and grew smaller, moving with fluctuating emotions as Vlad searched the tan face for some understanding. He found none, and his eyes fell to the floor with his resistance. Without a word, Vlad followed Anderson when the teen left the room and walked through the doorway across the hall when Anderson entered before him. Vlad was looking at his bare feet so he wasn't sure where Casey was standing, but he didn't want to know. "Yeah, so I'm sorry for calling you a girly man that doesn't have a dick, okay?"

"Not good enough."

Vlad looked up to glare at Anderson and then glared at his white toes, gritting his teeth when he heard a chuckle from the man he was seemingly bowing his head for. "I apologize for callin' ya names and erm…yellin' at ya. Sorry…for that…and yeah. Sorry."

It was quiet and then Anderson walked away from the gangster. "Good, now go."

Fucking choke on that bitch's cock. Vlad left the room and shut the door, pretending to lock them inside to starve, and then marched to the spare room and shut the door. He gave a tired, composing sigh that filled and emptied his chest, though he flinched when he heard Anderson's door open. But nothing happened so he calmed and looked at his weed. He gave a half-heart grin. "So much freaken stupid stuff, right Mari? Perverts watchin' me shower, fuckin' messed up bitch, he is, isn't he? Funny. I like ya, Mari, cuz you've got such a good sense of humor."

Then the unmistakable click of the door opening sound Vlad on his feet as he gawked at the door and then the face that looked him over curiously for a second and then passed him a smirk as he failed to satisfy his curiosity.

"Oh, fuck no! Okay? You are comin' to me pickin' a fight! Not gonna get in trouble and get blamed for this shit! I am NOT gonna take the blame! Alright? Leave me alone and make us all happy."

"You're talking to yourself then? I heard your voice and you said a name, so I was naturally concerned if you'd snuck anyone else in here. But by the looks of it, you're talking to an imaginary person. You're not high…are you?"

Vlad's hands slipped into his pockets, adding weight to his jacket as he gave Casey a good long stare, succeeding in irritating the man. Finally Vlad responded. "I'm not high, got it? Ya think your little fuck toy has drugs stashed in his house?"

Blue lost the glare and Casey's lips formed the words 'fuck toy' with a face of thought and surprise. The twitch that animated his lips afterwards, combined with the unpleasant amusement that adjusted his eyes accordingly so that he was sneering at the teen, angered Vlad, and the delinquent shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and widened his stance, lowering his head and peering at the man at an angle that struck Casey's expression from his face. Casey stared at Vlad, caution flitting through his limbs, tightening muscles, before he calmed and could watch the strange red eyes without trouble. He can't do anything. He looks like he could fall over and die at any second. Sick, frail, malnourished and undersized, blue noted as seconds went by slowly. Only the eyes, as a false threat to discourage any kind of physical confrontation, Casey mused, and a smirk lifted the corner of his lips.

The red eyes narrowed into slits while Vlad licked his lips and then bit them, assessing the blonde's expression. He didn't care for it. "Get out. Ya can't understand what I'm saying? Hm? Maybe you're just stupid."

The smirk was gone again. Vlad glanced around Casey to see where Anderson might be. Red narrowed on Casey again for another moment, then Vlad straightened and walked out the door, forcing Casey to step out of his way. But once out the door, Vlad kept walking, making a bee-line for Anderson's room before Casey could determine whether he should stop the delinquent or not. Casey hung back and watched as Vlad stopped in front of Anderson's door, his feet spread and his posture grossly lacking any dignity, in the man's mind.

"Anderson. Your – buddy's creeping me out. Tell him to leave me alone, 'kay?"

A bemused and ruffled Anderson opened the door and gazed down at Vlad and then searched for Casey, giving him a questioning look. Green found the gangster again, and just the sight of Vlad made Anderson begin to scowl in disgust, but he suppressed it by gripping the frame of his doorway.

Vlad shrugged back at Casey and then frowned at the hostile green above him. "Right. So ya see he's been bugging me, comin' into my room and jus' watching me. 'kay, so ya like his pretty face to stay pretty, but he's there trying ta get me to hit him or something."

Anderson's muscles stiffed and his disgust turned into something akin to hate. "You hit him and you're going to find yourself dropped off in the middle of a ghetto, tied up and gagged."

The gangster took a step back, his brow wrinkling as he listened to the threatening voice. Shit, he was pissing Anderson off. But- "Hey, but it's not like it's my fault. He came in the bathroom when I was trying to take a freaken shower! He's messed up, Anderson! You can't jus' do shit like that! It's not cool! Not okay with me, right? I'm just askin' for him to stop creeping me out and leave me alone. I asked and he jus' give me a creeper look like I'm being funny. I'm not doin' anything wrong! Hey, ya stop, not, no…what the fuck- and why are you trying ta pick a fight with me now?"

Vlad backed up, taking his hands from his pockets as Anderson stepped away from the door, pushing Vlad back with his menacing presence.

"Okay, fuck Anderson. Haven't noticed before, but your freaken huge and I'd rather not get into some kind of mess because of somethin' so stupid. Right? Don't get all freaken crazy wack-job on me again. I'm being good, you know. I am. You wanna mess with someone, get that guy, that one, not me." Vlad pointed at Casey and stopped, already close to the door to the spare bedroom. Anderson stood in front of him, too close for comfort, making the delinquent scowl up at him defensively, his teeth hissing at the jock. "Stop. You go that way, away." White hands made to turned Anderson around to go towards Casey, but his hands were slapped and forced away.

"You. You stay in this room and don't think about touching him, can you comprehend what I am saying? You touch him and I send you out the door…if you don't have some unfortunate mishap before you make it to the door."

While Vlad gawked shamelessly at the threat, a tan hand reach around him and opened the door to the spare room. The pale teen blinked, trying to figure out if he had heard the other teen correctly, and then his mouth slipped into a misplaced grin. "So you're gonna kill me if something happens to that guy? He's jus' playing with ya, you know that? Just for sex and maybe your money cuz you're rich. He's not good for you…know that?"

Fear pricked at the back of Vlad's mind and his face lost some blood when he saw the change in Anderson's face. He became quiet for a moment, and then glared back at the malevolent glower from the taller teen. "If I wasn't feelin' like shit right now and if you wasn't helping me, I could beat your sorry rich boy ass, Anderson."

There was a scoff in the background, and Vlad managed to peer around the broad shadow that was Anderson, to find Casey crossing his arms and shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his eyes cast to the side with utter distaste for the delinquent. "Can we just get rid of him? Drop him off at a 7-Eleven or something?"

Vlad stiffened and automatically pointed at Casey, oblivious of Anderson's flaring temper. "Hey you. I was here first bitch. If someone's leaving it'd be you, you creeper perv. And by the way, you look just like a hooker I've seen before. Are ya a prostitute bitch or-?"

"That's it."

Vlad blinked at Anderson, but lost all thought as his was pulled from the door and towards the stairs, being led by the bigger teen. "You're out of here. I'm done dealing with you, freak."

Vlad's heels dug into the carpet and his stomach twisted as he was dragged to the edge of the stairs. His feet dropped from step to step, fighting to stop while his hand pushed at the solid grip Anderson had on his arm. "Hey. Hey! C'mon! You're dragging me and ruining my clothes! Hey! Anderson! And I don't even have my friggen shoes, I need my shoes and my socks." The tile presented more grip for Vlad's feet, but as the gangster managed to slow Anderson for a moment, he soon lost his footing and found himself stumbling after the unrelenting pace until he wasn't walking on his feet at all, they were sliding over the floor, soon covered by part of his pants as they slipped down. He struggled to keep his pants on, twisting and fighting Anderson seriously now. "You've gotta be kidding me, Anderson! My pants are falling off, you dick! Stop! Let me go you bastard, you're hurting me! Damn it, you fuctard bitch, STOP! Hey! You're not actually-!" They passed the kitchen and Vlad could see the door that led to the garage. His eyes widened with dawning desperation that gripped his voice. "H-hey. Anderson…I've been good, ya know. Hey, hey c'mon…" They were cloaked by the shadow given by the close walls of the hallway and panic descended with the darkness. He clawed and hit the hand, stopping Anderson. As soon as Anderson stopped, Vlad was on his feet, throwing himself against the hold that was restraining him, towards the light, away from the garage. Anderson was hissing and growling in annoyance.

"LET ME GO!"

Anderson struggled with the writhing teen that pulled away from him, and a white hand tried to push against the side of the wall to break away. "Stop! If you do this, I might-" He pulled Vlad towards the door, farther down the hallway. "I might hurt you with all of this thrashing around-"

Vlad lunged at Anderson when the jock twisted his arm painfully, and he targeted a muscled forearm. Anderson's eyes flew wide and he let go of Vlad.

"FUCK! YOU BIT ME! Da-mn!" Anderson hissed, pulling back his sleeve as his back hit the wall. He examined the peeled skin that had been cut through, but the wound was not deep enough to draw blood. Nevertheless, it was a noticeable, bruising injury and it left the shape of human teeth around a section of his arm. Anderson snarled at the mark and strode from the shadows as he heard a door slam upstairs. He was going to get rid of this freak no matter how tough he would have to get with the gangster. He was ready to pick Vlad up and chuck him out the window.

Meanwhile the pale delinquent fumbled with the doorknob, trying to figure out how to lock it as his chest heaved with shallow panting and his body shuddered with dread at what was happening. But he managed to find out how to lock the door and he darted in different directions about the room like a trapped animal, searching for a place to hide. His head felt light and his vision pulsed, making it hard to see as darkness narrowed his sight, so he bumped into a bedpost, hitting his knee. But he didn't care, he'd spotted the closet. He tripped and ran for it, stopping to grab his weed when he saw it and recalled its importance. Then he opened one of the doors of the closet and closed himself inside by setting his plant down for a moment and crouching low to grasp the bottom of the door to pull it closed. In the pitch darkness, Vlad started and then froze in place as he heard Anderson rattle the door knob, trying to get into the room. He heard muffled voices as he crawled forward and tucked himself away in the corner, moving a hanging coat that was in a drycleaner's wrapping so that it would hide him if someone opened the door. Next, he felt around blindly for the potted weed and then brought it to his lap where his knees and arms pressed it against his chest. Then he didn't move and his erratic breaths became hushed. He kept his eyes closed and his grip firm around the plant.

A few minutes passed where half of them had granted the teen with silence, but that silence fled when there was a sharp sound coming from the door to the room and then a click as the door unlocked. Anderson pushed it open and glowered about the room, angered further to find that it was empty. He looked around the sides of the bed and behind a dresser while Casey entered and checked the other side of the room where the window was covered by blinds. Anderson's eyes glanced over the closet, and then locked onto it with a damning glare. His footsteps became louder as they got closer, and Vlad held onto the plant and hunched inward to hopefully improve his hiding place, his eyes squeezing shut until they actually hurt. His heart was racing and his head felt airy and spacious, as if he was slipping away into a dream.

His breathing stopped as the door was wrenched open and light flooded the closet around him, which he could see even with his eyes closed, the darkness behind them lightening a shade. The darkness brightened another degree when the scrapping of the hanging coat sliding along the metal rack revealed Vlad's hiding place. The teen hoped Anderson wouldn't see him, that he'd just blend in with the shadows and be overlooked. But Anderson clearly saw the condensed form that the teen had reduced himself to, and he was scowling at the delinquent as his disgust for Vlad grew to new proportions.

"Get out." The order went unanswered as Vlad pretended not to hear. Anderson's not there. Just my imagination, he told himself as he slipped further into his dream world, his heart thudding, sending his mind flying farther away from him… "GET OUT!"

Vlad didn't even flinch at the yell, his senses were too obscure now. In a daze, he realized that Anderson had grabbed him and drawn him forcibly out of the closet. All of Vlad's strength went to holding the pot in his arms to make sure he didn't drop it. He could barely see Anderson, but he felt that the teen was holding him up, trying to get him to stand.

"Alex…he's out of it. He's swaying."

"Hey. Stand up."

"Alex, get the flowerpot. Why does he even have that?"

"Stand up!" Anderson grabbed the pot, hooking his arm around Vlad to hold him up as he found a place to put the weed. He returned both of his hands to the delinquent when Vlad began to slip to the floor.

"I don't feel good." Mumbled the pale face that looked worse than it had all night. His eyes were hazy and unfocused and they blinked lethargically. "If…felt good…I'd kick yurass…Anderson."

Green eyes stared at the head that dropped against his chest and then went to Casey, taking a moment to find him, anxious about the older blonde's response to all of this and lost without knowing what to do next with the limp, semi-conscious form he was holding. Casey was watching Vlad with a detached look. He indicated the bed with a nod of his head. "Put him there, I guess. He won't be much of a bother asleep."

Following the advice without a second thought, Anderson pulled Vlad towards the bed and then lifted him up onto it and left him lying on top of the blankets. Anderson turned away from the delinquent after that, unwilling to touch or even look at him for a moment longer. He looked at Casey instead, with a face full of guilt for how the night was going and he apologized to Casey for a second time that night because of the red-eyed freak.

Casey didn't say anything, his eyes lingering on the pale teen before they finally switched to the healthy teen standing in front of him. Seeing Anderson's face made his lips quirk into a slim smile. A hand touched Anderson's arm, stroking it soothingly, easing the teen's anxiety.

"I'm about ready to go home, though…anyway." Casey smiled and Anderson winced at his declaration, guilt and anxiety nibbling at him again, as well as his loathing for the gangster on the bed. That loathing faded from his mind and he became numbed from all feeling when the warm, athletic and slim body pressed against him and arms wrapped around his middle with a kiss planting itself gently on his jaw.

The moment, however, was mercilessly ripped from the present with the sudden, clumsy and hurried action of Vlad grabbing the blankets and rolling with them so that he was in something that resembled a cocoon. Green and blue eyes stared as the mass of tangled blanket, seeing nothing but the back of the delinquent's head. But they both scowled when they could clearly hear his voice.

"Don't fuck in here. I'm sleeping."

Casey rolled his eyes, slightly humored by the teen's persistent personality, but Anderson glared at him with burning resentment. He stepped forward and rolled the cocoon one more time, drawing a gasp from Vlad before he hit the floor with a muffled thud. Anderson turned his back on the wave of curses and left the room Casey, retrieving his car keys before going to his car and taking Casey home.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

When Anderson came home the first thing on his mind was to get the gangster. He wasn't sure what he was going to do or if he was going to do anything, but he was going to the freak's room to confront him in one manner or another. The door was thrown open and Anderson marched into the room, a whole car ride's worth of fuming having allowed his blood to boil so that the heat had affected his cheeks, reddening them with anger. His frown paused on the bed and then swept about the room to find Vlad, and then green flicked to the bed again, noticing how bare it was without the blankets present. Blinking with receding anger and more of a stunned numbness, Anderson went to the side of the bed where he had pushed Vlad and stared at the tight bundle of blankets and the face that was hiding in them. He was almost surprised when the mass spoke.

"I'm stuck."

Anderson said nothing, he thought of nothing, gazing at the form in his brief stupor. Vlad was quiet and he didn't move, though his head inched out of the confines of the blanket to peek at Anderson dully. "Your jus' gonna leave me here, aren't you?"

"Yup."

And Anderson left the room, took a shower, and went to bed while Vlad continued to lay on the carpet, his face tucked into his cocoon, letting himself drift off to sleep.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

5:52 A.M. the blue glowed from Anderson's digital alarm clock, declaring the morning before neither the teen nor the sun was ready to rise. But another creature had awakened before the sun and he crept around the bed and watched the sleeping blonde, smirking at the peaceful, completely unaware face. The creature pounced on the sleeping teenager, making Anderson yell and gape at the snickering mass on top of him. Vlad observed the forming hatred in the green eyes with a blink, and then stuck out his tongue in retaliation. His grin withdrew his tongue. "Wake up. Mornin' time again, Anderson. Ass up, and get ready for school."

"Get off of me!" A shove removed the mass of gangster and sent Vlad rolling into the bed, sniggering devilishly at Anderson's anger. Anderson snarled and stormed off to his closet and pulled out his clothes. As he was doing so he heard a shout and a thump as Vlad threw himself off the bed. Anderson watched him curiously when Vlad sat on the floor making gagging sounds and brushing himself off with haste.

"Ew! Fucking gross! I forgot what you two were doing in this bed last night! EW, Fuckin' EW!"

"Get. Out." Vlad followed the demand willingly, still brushing himself off as if he were coated in filth, much to Anderson's annoyance. Anderson slammed his door when Vlad was gone and proceeded to dress and get ready to leave for school. A hateful mantra filled his thoughts as he dressed and collected his books into a stack on his desk.

He descended the stairs with heavy steps, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses as his hand traced over the railing and he sighed out his sleepiness and walked into his kitchen, ready to prepare his breakfast and eat, only to be confronted with the disgusting appearance of the gaunt delinquent that looked up and gave him a smug grin.

"I made the waffles. An' look, they look jus' like the ones on the box, the butter and syrup and…that's it. Waffles don't look as good, but there's nothin' I could really do about that. Bitches never make the food as good as the picture. Big fucking scam if you ask me."

Green was observing the two plates of waffles on the counter, the butter dish and the container of maple syrup sitting beside them. He looked at Vlad for a moment, then his features darkened and he gave a hostile huff to the waffles and went to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk.

Vlad was watching him, and he saw the milk. "Milk's good with waffles…" His voice trailed off as Anderson went to a cupboard and took out a bowl, set everything he was holding on the counter, and then retrieved a spoon and a box of Raisin Nut Bran cereal and poured the contents of the box into the bowl, added milk, and dipped the spoon in and took a bite. Anderson chewed, bowl in hand, looking at the dumbfounded gangster. He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed and then put his cereal down so he could return the milk to the fridge and the cereal box to the pantry. When he turned to Vlad again, pale features were twisted in quiet fury, white fists balled by Vlad's sides as his shoulders quivered. "You're a _total_ fucking asshole. You know that, bitch? A_ total fuckin' asshole_. I made you fuckin' awesome waffles because you let me stay here, even though your freaken creeper chomo fuck buddy freaken sexually harassed me last-"

"He did not." Anderson cut, interrupting Vlad with a deadly low voice and an intimidating glower warning Vlad to stop while he was ahead. The gangster got the message, though the received offence was still burning in his eyes. Vlad looked at the waffles, scowling when he heard Anderson crunch a mouthful of cereal and milk.

"You're wasting the friggen food, you creep." Anderson said nothing so Vlad continued to watch the waffles as amber syrup flowed viscously from the waffles to pool on the plate. "You're a fuckin' asshole, just a fucking asshole. 'kay? How many people do ya think I make waffles for? Hm? None, bitch. I made waffles for _you_, right? Tha's a big fuckin' favor. I was being fucking _grateful_, unlike your stupid fuck buddy."

"Shut up." Anderson warned, staring at Vlad as the red eyes continued to look at the plates on the counter.

"I called you his fuck toy and all the ass did was smile like it was funny 'n true. I hate guys like him, more than assholes like you."

Vlad flinched in surprise when a tan hand lifted one of the plates from the counter and went to a metal trash can Vlad hadn't seen before, in the corner, and scraped the food into it. Vlad was still staring mutely as Anderson went to the sink and washed the syrup from the plate and then returned to the counter where Vlad was standing and stopped, looking down at the pale face that turned up to his. There was no comparison between the two teenagers. Anderson was tall, broad-shouldered, well built, and nearing the prime of his life, while Vlad was of average height, close to appearing emaciated with the shadows of hunger around his eyes, grey hollowing cheeks, and no color of health on his skin. The shadowed, ringed eyes gazed up at Anderson and Vlad couldn't help but instinctively take a step back, coming in contact with the counter.

"Eat the damn food or I'm throwing it out and shoving you down the garbage disposal."

Red blinked slowly, confusion crinkling a pale forehead. "Ya think I could fit in that little hole?"

Anderson scoffed and left the teen standing against the counter to resume eating his own breakfast which was getting soggier by the minute. The flakes didn't crunch as well as they had before when he chewed. Vlad said nothing and sat on a stool, cutting up his waffles bleakly and eating them. He livened at the sweet taste and the food that filled his stomach, motivating him to add enthusiasm to his chewing.

Anderson finished eating before Vlad and was upstairs when the delinquent was rinsing his plate, mimicking what Anderson had done to the other plate, and he left it in the sink. His interest diverted to the mysterious metal trashcan whose lid opened up when he stepped on a lever fixed at the bottom of it. Vlad toyed with the lever for a while and then went to the sink and examined the trashcan on the inside of the door. It was full of water bottles and empty bottles of Gatorade and even a milk jug at the way bottom, under everything else.

Oops. He'd mistaken the recycling for the garbage… Vlad spent a minute or two retrieving the trash he had thrown into the recycling yesterday and then transferred it to the metal trashcan, where it belonged. Afterwards, he washed his hands and then sat down in a stool, letting his gaze drift about the kitchen.

Anderson was in his room when the music floated through the doorway and he paused to listen for a moment. Another sad song, but it wasn't slow, it had a quick and fluctuating, flowing pace, and sometimes it didn't seem that sad. He actually liked the song, despite the identity of the teen that was playing it, but Anderson didn't comment on the song when he took his books downstairs and told the gangster that it was time to go, and he was silent when they backed out of the driveway.

Vlad was the one that switched on the radio. Anderson glanced at the pale boy and then the road again as a finger skipped stations, searching for a song. Vlad finally settled on one and the end of a song filled the car. The volume was raised by Vlad and then lowered by Anderson who thought it was loud enough already. Minutes went by, and two songs later the blonde jolted at a sudden sharp gasp from the gangster that stole his attention. He stared at Vlad, waiting for an explanation crossly while Vlad remained oblivious, giving an open grin to the radio as a song played.

_A long, long time ago...  
I can still remember  
How that music used to make me smile.  
And I knew if I had my chance  
That I could make those people dance  
And, maybe, they'd be happy for a while._

"I love this song!" Vlad laughed with joy, dulling green eyes that rolled back to the road with an ill-humored snort.

"Really?" Didn't sound like a song he would like, Anderson frowned to himself, listening to the lyrics while he saw Vlad nod his answer in the passenger seat.

"One of my favorites. Absolute favorites."

_But February made me shiver  
With every paper I'd deliver.  
Bad news on the doorstep;  
I couldn't take one more step._

_I can't remember if I cried_  
_When __I read about his widowed bride…_

"Huh. It's one of those thrown together songs, random nonsense."

Vlad glowered at Anderson with a gaped snarl. "Shut the fuck up, bitch. Shows you don't know shit. This song is genius! A classic! Fuckin' Don McLean, bastard!"

"Who's Don McLean?"

Vlad gawked, his anger faded. "Damn, you poor son-of-a-bitch. Jus' listen. You'll have to recognize it now."

And as Anderson listened, his eyes widened in recognition. Oh.

_So bye-bye, miss american pie.  
Drove my chevy to the levee,  
But the levee was dry.  
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye  
Singin', "this'll be the day that I die.  
"this'll be the day that I die."_

When he looked at the gangster again, Vlad was smirking with his eyes closed. "American Pie?"

"Yeah bitch. …My mom used ta play it for me on the guitar, sing together. She was a musician, singer of sorts. Best voice out there." The pale teen hummed, his eyes still closed so he missed the blank expression that occupied Anderson's features. Vlad's voice chimed in with the tune coming from the car speakers, dulling Anderson's eyes as they returned to the road. He was okay to listen to…the freak…

_Well, I know that you're in love with him  
`cause I saw you dancin' in the gym.  
You both kicked off your shoes.  
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues._

_I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck_  
_With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,_  
_But I knew I was out of luck_  
_The day the music died._

_I started singin',_  
_"bye-bye, miss american pie."_  
_Drove my chevy to the levee,_  
_But the levee was dry._  
_Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye_  
_And singin', "this'll be the day that I die._  
_"this'll be the day that I die."_

"I like this part, listen." Vlad put in quickly, earning a glance from the blonde. His eyes were still closed and a grin was fused to his pale face, adding some vigor to it.

_Now for ten years we've been on our own  
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone,  
But that's not how it used to be.  
When the jester sang for the king and queen,  
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean  
And a voice that came from you and me,_

_Oh, and while the king was looking down,_  
_The jester stole his thorny crown._  
_The courtroom was adjourned;_  
_No verdict was returned._  
_And while Lennon read a book of Marx,_  
_The quartet practiced in the park,_  
_And we sang dirges in the dark_  
_The day the music died._

Green viewed the road as minutes slipped by and he listened to the song and the delinquent's voice, sometimes unable to separate the two. Random little freak, he sighed, turning the steering wheel, and the music slowed to contain only a voice and a piano before the guitar joined in again.

_And in the streets: the children screamed,  
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.  
But not a word was spoken;  
The church bells all were broken.  
And the three men I admire most:  
The father, son, and the holy ghost,  
They caught the last train for the coast  
The day the music died._

_And they were singing,_  
_"bye-bye, miss american pie."_  
_Drove my chevy to the levee,_  
_But the levee was dry._  
_And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye_  
_Singin', "this'll be the day that I die._  
_"this'll be the day that I die."_

…

When the song ended, the car seemed quieter than it had before even when another song came on the radio. Vlad's eyes remained shut. Nothing changed before the engine was shut off and the keys were pulled from the car's ignition in the school parking lot.

"One of the best songs ever, right Anderson?"

Anderson walked through the parking lot and ascended the concrete stairs to the school campus without looking at the other teen, keeping his head relatively low, as if he was bothered by the mist. He sighed with a twinge of aggravation and carelessness. "Yeah, sure. Fine. It's a song."


	3. Chapter 3

With cold water dusting his eyes, a chill seeping through his skin, black bangs brushed forward to shield the gangster's face and he shuddered to dislodge the chill. A crisp breeze stroked his hands and moved his hair so that it could touch his cheeks. Vlad shivered with an annoyed scowl. "Damn it, it's cold."

Anderson continued to walk in the direction he was headed, but now his mind acknowledged that the delinquent was still following him, seeing this as something he did not approve of. "What are you doing?"

Red appeared through the black bangs when Vlad lifted his head to give Anderson a curious look. "Whatcha mean, 'what am I doing'? I'm walking, Anderson. _Walking_. Is that somethin' new to ya? Or what?"

The beginning of a scowl tilted Anderson's lips and added a crease beneath his eyes. "You're following me. Go off to…wherever you go. Go to class. Bet that that's not something you do often." Anderson looked down at the slouched posture and the bright red eyes that watched him with a much duller look. It made the teen smirk condescendingly, an expression Vlad was not ignorant of, though he made no comment.

"I go to class…sometimes. You know I do cuz I'm not gonna…not graduate. I am actually gonna graduate, you know. Got C's too, Anderson. I really do, in, um, Government and a…a…forgot what else. But I mean at our school, pretty much if ya come you're gonna get to graduate."

A scoff made Vlad's forehead furrow and his mouth dip with a lack of appreciation for the blonde's superior aura that was attempting to choke the delinquent as he walked beside the jock, passing a row of covered picnic tables. "Really now? Congratulations for reaching the bare minimum. I bet you're really proud of that."

Now Vlad's face contorted with obvious loathing as the feeling welled up inside his chest and constricted his gut, heart, and lungs alike, twisting his hands into knotty fists. "I AM proud." Anderson looked down at the burning crimson, his expression blank except for the height of superiority found in his emerald eyes. Vlad did not look away, seeing all the way up to the lofty height Anderson thought himself to stand above the gangster. "I'm gonna graduate, ya know. People are going to shit themselves when they see me there in one of 'em cap and gown things with a freaken diploma to boot. Shove it up your stuck up ass is what I'm tempted to do, Anderson, if you hadn't helped me out so much an' proven you're not a complete jackass. Got some niceness in ya, somewhere really small and hidden, you've got a little."

"…You're- You're saying I'm a mean person?"

The two stared at one another for several moments, both with blank expressions. Vlad gawked at him and then looked away with an airy laugh of disbelief. "Reality check, Anderson. You're a stuck up bitch." Green flashed with anger while Vlad's eyes were blocked from the jock's view when a black hood was drawn over the dark head of hair. But a visible, pale smirk was deliberately shown to the blonde, prompting Anderson to break away from the gangster and trudge off though the forming puddles to whatever destination he desired.

Vlad's steps gradually slowed until he stood beneath the strengthening droplets of water, his clothes darkening as they slowly dampened. Shadowed red watched Anderson go until he disappeared behind a tree and then a wall where Vlad was sure he would be going into the building to take shelter from the rain in the crowded halls or perhaps one of the classrooms or even the library. Vlad turned and made his way around the swampy expanse of grass to reach his own source of cover in his first period class. Might as well go, from Anderson's words it seemed unlikely that anyone would look for him there.

The door was unlocked, so he went in, his shoes squeaking faintly on the smooth hard floor, passing one empty collection of tables to go beyond a dividing wall where he would find his own class. His teacher looked up from her desk and then returned her attention to what she was writing before tapping on her keyboard. Vlad gave her the same amount of acknowledgment as he walked to the back of the room to claim the small, secluded table that was separated from the rest of the class by a few wire racks used by the painting class and a table laden with containers of acrylic paint. He sat in his chair silently until the bell rang for the beginning of the passing period before the first class of the day. Then other students entered in groups or by themselves, filling the room with noise and voices, all going to their own seats. No one went beyond the wire drying racks and the red eyes never looked up from the surface of the wooden table, tracing the lines of scars that had been carved into it through the years.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"I can't believe he has the balls to keep coming to school. If I were him, I'd be halfway around the world by now." Papers were ignored as a few heads at the table lifted to listen and look at the boy who was speaking. Some glanced at the other side of the classroom and either added their own comments or were quiet, though all eyes turned away from the table beyond the black wire pillars of the racks after only a few seconds.

"He should get out of town."

"No, the country."

"You just want to get rid of him."

"Hell _yeah_. Who wants to go to the school with people like him? It's bad, putting…them, with like normal…people. I mean they don't give a crap about school anyway, it's just a place for them to sell drugs or buy them. They make the bathrooms smell like shit, smoking pot in there."

"I _know_! Yesterday I went to the bathroom during PE and I had to go halfway around the school to the one by the library because it reeked of pot."

"They stuff bottles of alcohol in the trash-whatcha-ma-call-its in the bathrooms. I found vodka once and tequila a different time. You ever found stuff like that?"

"No. But those ghetto ska- sorry, those…messed up girls with the tattoos and the fang piercings and other piercings-"

"Oh, I know them."

"Yeah, well I'm sick of seeing a guy's you-know-what on the wall whenever I go to the bathroom. They write stupid stuff everywhere too, like 'kill the police', I mean who the hell writes stuff like that? What's that- I mean, god, it's annoying."

"And practically undressing each other, making out in places. Makes me sick."

"Slutty."

"Definitely. Who wants to listen to them talking about having…sex…with their boyfriend. Ew, definitely."

"Oh, that I don't mind."

"Oh shut up Michael, you pervert. What would Katie think if she heard you say that?"

"It was a joke!"

The table was quiet, most of those who had been talking returning to their work while those who had never lifted their heads continued to draw. "Hey- hey have any of you ever seen him wear anything other than that big black jacket and those ratty shoes. I don't think he even changes his pants. Gross guy, overall, isn't he? And ugly as fuck."

"Since when have we made fun of people's financial positions or the way they look?"

All faces rose to peer at the end of the table where the tan features and the green eyes looked back at all of them, lenient disapproval portrayed in a slight frown.

They hesitated. The boy who had spoken before, who now had the green eyes focused on his head, winced, losing any trace of his confidence. "It's- It's just that guy, Alex. That…kinda freaky guy that has people call him Hell Dog." A hand pointed to the table across the room. "He has a bad personality, a bad reputation, it's not just looks. If it was I wouldn't say anything like that." The boy looked away from the table where his eyes had fallen and found that Alex Anderson was looking beyond the racks, staring at the black hood with obvious surprise. So stunned was the blonde that he stared at the gangster longer than anyone else in the class ever had. Anderson was still looking at Vlad when he spoke.

"He's in our class?"

"Uh, yeah, all year so far. Don't worry, I didn't really notice until this week, with the whole scandal about him being gay. –I wasn't saying those things because he's gay though, Alex."

Anderson was still looking at the black hood and the back that was turned to the rest of the world so a few of the teens at his table glanced at Vlad as well. Their table didn't bring up the subject about Hell Dog again during class, though they caught the name from discussions at other tables. Anderson's eyes, however, had been made sensitive to Vlad's area after his surprise, so they were drawn to the delinquent's table when the shape of the teacher making her rounds about the classroom was seen standing next to the black jacket. She asked him a question quietly, pointing at the paper the pale hands were working on.

"White owls are Christmassy, I thought. They live in the snow or something. …We're just supposed to draw Christmas stuff."

"It's not really what I had in mind, but it's alright. Keep it up. If you complete it and turn it in it will get a grade that will probably bring you back up to a high C. You just haven't turned in many of your assignments. Well, you haven't turned them in completed, that is."

Vlad's hands stopped moving and he looked up at the teacher and then stared at his paper. "I could make up some of the work today…I'm almost done with this one…"

"…Alright. I can give you half credit if you turn some work in today. Just don't rush through it or I'm not even going to bother. Some effort or no grade. I won't accept a scribble because I know you're at a higher level than that. You're capable of doing more."

Vlad didn't say anything, but he must have nodded because the teacher left and he went back to work. Time dragged the class onward, progressing until fifteen minutes were left. Then the teacher stood at her desk and asked for her class's attention.

"I've been looking at your work as a whole today and have decided that I'll give everyone full credit so you can take your art home for the holidays. It'd make a nice gift if you haven't already found one for your parent or guardian, and I'd rather not have the extra work. How does that sound?" The woman smiled at the enthusiastic response and went back to grading work from previous classes. "I'll return some of your old work at the end of class. Stay in your seats and I'll come around and pass them back."

The room was already filled with chattering as students recalled what day it was and what tomorrow would be. 'What're you going to do?' 'Where are you going to go?' 'Will you be skiing or snowboarding?' This drew on until class came to a close and the teacher had sat behind her desk after returning two pieces of artwork to each of her students (with Vlad being the exception, not receiving any work back). Then the class drained of bodies, leaving only two behind. Vlad who turned in the assignments he had managed to finish, and the teacher who accepted the art and gave him permission to leave and come back at lunch to finish. She had a class during sixth period, so lunch was the only time he could come back to complete his assignments before the Christmas break.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Run Forrest, run.

The blonde charged down the field after faking a throw, the furious yell of the coach following him, cursing the other players when Anderson easily scored a touch down. It was pathetic to watch.

"Defense! What in blazes are you doing out there? You left that entire space open! I have never seen such a-"

And the yelling continued with the man's face reddening as he gathered the gloomy bunch, the other players laughing and tossing the football around when Anderson trotted back to center field and threw the ball to a player, laughing and joking before the assistant coach gathered them together again. They tried to initiate a play, and then settled on throwing the ball down the line with a player running before it, hopefully catching the football. The school's football team was ranked number one in its league. The P.E. class was a collection of potential players, a few actual members of the team, and a big handful of wannabes.

Goddamn it Forrest, run ya fat ass. Vlad watched the teens with a blank bored gaze, his fist denting his cheek as he sat on the concrete bleachers that descended into the crater-like football field where the blue track was being used by a few track and field runners. There were other students in the stands farther down, close to the rail that separated the seats from the track. Red eyes traveled over the green turf, through white lines that marked the yards. Anderson was grinning, jogging back to the body of players.

Happy guy, ain't he? When he's playing football with 'em all. Some of his friends and stuff. And he's good at it. Don't know much about football but I think he's good at it. Didn't they do well this year and stuffs?…yeah. The delinquent sighed, his cold fist still buried in his cheek, likely to leave behind a red mark if left unattended for much longer. Down the lines of concrete seats that resembled steep steps leading out of the crater of the track and field, other students, a few, were conversing, too far away for their voices to reach Vlad, but the musical thrum of an acoustic guitar was heard and Vlad looked in their direction, leaving his fist and cheek the same.

There was a hollow, rather dull sound, like a fist smacking into a loose drum, that within a split second led to the cascading deluge of plastic bottles and soda cans pouring out of the recycling unit, the sound of which escaladed with the rapid snarled curses that poured in equal wealth from the red-eyed teen who threw his body away from the waterfall of urban material. The disturbance acquired the entire stadium's attention with the echoes rebounding and filling the many listening ears with alarm. Vlad spun, tripping and falling down two of the steep steps before he landed roughly in a sitting position. The laughs raining down from above made him growl before he even saw the familiar group, which, at the moment, was a trio. They flipped him off, flashed a foreboding sign and then sneered, ready to advance when they saw the fallen gangster return their curses with much more skill and imagination, managing to throw up his own front of aggression though he was still sitting where he had fallen in such a disgraceful fashion.

"You fuckers get down here! You wanna ass beating, I'll fuckin' give you an ass beatin'! Weak motherfuckers! Bunch of baby rapists and cunt sucking-%#!&$#! -&^%#!" The cursing became steadily more vulgar with the addition of graphic details, the ad hominem attack on why the opposition was weaker, growing louder.

On the brink of spilling over into a fight, the aggression was pushed back when the lower cursing voice of the coach hollered up at the seats. The huge assistant coach drained the oncoming fight when the teens saw the bulking young man jog towards them with a threatening scowl that didn't need words to tell the delinquents that they should go. The trio ducked out through the gate and out of sight, accelerating the speed of the assistant before he saw that it was hopeless, having been too far away to see any distinctive characteristics about the boys other than their clothes and accents, fake or natural. But now his irritated glare found Vlad who was still sitting on the concrete seat, spewing obscenities after the other teens, ignorant of the man's approach.

Vlad cursed and got up, careful not to move anything too quickly when he felt the forewarning of pain, the prickle of electricity at the base of his spine. A bruised tail bone was the only injury he identified, a stroke of luck in his eyes though he still grumbled as he stood awkwardly with his hand at his back, looking at all of the bottles and cans. Bending over to pick up all this stuff would hurt, and it would make him look lame…but he would sit where he wanted to sit, regardless of whether this attack was meant to discourage him from doing so or not. Vlad grunted, his hand slipping to his bruise as he crouched and then conceded to the pain by switching to his knees, still ignorant of the approaching assistant who now stopped at the stairs that rose from the field, parallel to the steep seats that only resembled stairs. The man watched the black, unwieldy sweatshirt and long hair that moved with the wind when the teen grabbed for another bottle before throwing it up to the flat leveled concrete after the top seat, in this way gathering a pile and cleaning the mess. The recycling unit had bounced down the seats and then the stairs and was currently lying uselessly on its side, a lighter blue than the rubber track beneath it, missing the lid that had flown away to avoid the long fall when the container had been kicked. The man sighed, picking up the recycling container before walking up the steps. The remaining bottles in the blue container hit one another with the jostle they received from each of the man's steps, calling out a warning the delinquent heard with a start of apprehension. Vlad tried to get up, but felt a threatening twinge of pain, so he stayed on his knees, aware of the steps that were too close to outrun in his condition. Best thing to do was ignore the guy. It had to be a guy. The steps were heavy and it sounded like the person was carrying the recycling container without much trouble.

Fuck. Vlad chucked a bottle and hurt his back, making him hiss and hunch his shoulders, sending a glare into the concrete when he knew that the stranger was standing only a yard to his left. Then the footsteps continued up to the top of the seats and the plastic scraping told Vlad that the container had been set down. Then it sounded like the bottles and cans the teen had thrown were being tossed into the recycling unit. Unwilling to even glance at the person that was helping him, Vlad chewed on his tongue and resumed cleaning, scooting to the side to reach for more water bottles. He got up and went down the seats, picking up as many bottles as he could, filling his arms. He put these on the seat just above him, then climbed to the next steep seat and moved the bottles to the seat above that one. He did this until he was at the top seat and the person who had been filling the recycling container was below him, picking up the bottles that remained. Vlad pushed the last bottle to sit in a pile next to the blue plastic container before he lowered the container to its side on the concrete so that he could shovel the pile into its mouth with his hands. Vlad hurried, shoving at the pile of bottles and cans hastily while he filled with unease upon hearing the returning footsteps, coming up the stairs, finally stopping to peer down at him. Vlad stood the container upright and immediately ducked to the side to maneuver around the man in order to escape.

"Wait up. You have to explain what went on here."

The bottles were thrown into the recycling unit and the retrieved lid was set firmly in place. Vlad kept walking, short, quick steps, reaching the gate.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Then it was over, with that angry voice, a second later Vlad was caught, his arm encircled by a large hand that held him in place. Vlad finally looked at the assistant, recognizing him from having seen the man on the field. Red narrowed with hostility, the pale teen bristling at the feeling of being captured.

"Ain't any fuckin' part of your business."

Surprise and outrage covered the man's face as Vlad lost any credit he had earned for cleaning up the mess on his own instead of running off. The man scowled, his hand a firm, but not painful, vice around the teen's arm. It was thin, disgustingly thin, the assistant realized with his brows responding to his opinion, rippling as they expressed themselves and then were tamed into neutrality. Vlad thought it was part of the stranger's response to his defiance, so he did not react. The man now frowned. "You don't feel like telling me what that was all about?"

"No, now fuck off." Vlad replied flatly, his arm tugging against the grasp, yearning for freedom.

This earned a huff and nothing more, eyes evaluating Vlad, observing the gaunt, starved features and the burning, rebellious red eyes. "Which class are you supposed to be in right now?" The demand pressed Vlad with a stable, hard voice.

"Free period, I'm allowed to do whatever the hell I want. You can't tell me what to do. What the fuck are you doing, trying to tell me what to do? I ain't done nothing, alright? You're not my teacher. You're not a teacher at all."

"I'm an instructor at this school and you owe me the same amount of respect you owe any other teacher at this school. Do you understand that? I can get you in just as much trouble as any other teacher. Now do you feel like fixing your tone and showing me some respect?"

Vlad's eyes shifted about, avoiding the man's merciless stare. The delinquent wetted his lips and tried to roll his shoulder away from the hand that constricted him, to no avail. "Yeah, whatever, sure. Now let me go. You're not supposed to touch students. I could get you into some deep shit for holding me here like this. You gotta let me go."

The hand jolted, loosening before tightening with the man's lips that spread with a sneer of disdain. "You were fighting on school property. That's enough for suspension, and you have nothing going for your defense."

"Defense?" Vlad snorted, throwing his hair to the side when he pulled at his arm. He laughed as the man's grip refused to lessen. "Hell, fuckin' hell man. You gotta let me go. You can't do this type of shit- Fuck!" The teen's body tensed at the flash of pain from his back, tweaking the injury that told him he had managed to hurt more of his spine than he had previously thought. The assistant coach watched with a wave of apprehension when Vlad seemed to have injured himself. For injuring a student he could get in a lot of trouble. And now that he heard the steps and voices of the team coming up from the field to go to the weight room, the man released the teen and asked him what was wrong. Vlad cursed him but eventually let the man know that he had hurt his back when he had fallen. And so, Vlad was led to the athletic nurse's station, that neighbored the weight room, to see the trainer

Vlad refused to give the woman or any of her student assistants permission to look at his back, so they offered him a bag of ice he accepted after a moment of hesitation. Vlad wanted to slink off to nurse his wounds in private, but the nagging woman insisted that he stay and the assistant coach rejected the idea of Vlad escaping from his grasp. Vlad hissed and threw the icepack on a bench in frustration and then sauntered beside the assistant when the man took him, without an alternative, to the sweat perfumed room full of perspiring, thick male athletes. With guarded, eyes, Vlad glanced around, swallowing as his nervousness began to mount.

This is what they call punishment? There's a few good lookin' guys here…hell, not bad. Stupid thoughts. I hate these stupid thoughts. Fuckin' faggot thoughts. Fuckin' fag thoughts, damn it.

The Vlad that approached the head varsity coach was quieter and more anxious about his situation. Hell, if I get in trouble then Anderson's gonna get pissed and if that bastard's pissed I'm out of a home and back ta no food…an' I'm hungry. Right now, I'm hungry. Wish I had some applesauce at least…or some magic powder. Vlad swallowed again, biting his lip until it hurt, averted from looking at the shirtless teen on the scale beside the coach. Red saw only the rubber puzzle pieces that fit together to cover the concrete floor beneath them. They were black with little flecks of color, he noticed, trying to calm himself, but trepidation picked up and ran off with his heart beat, leaving the boy to chew his lip at the sound of the assistant's voice conversing with the head coach. The coach had a quick comment for the shirtless athlete before the teen was excused and told to resume his routine, weights, bench presses, and so on. The teen gave Vlad a reproachful look, as was the common response to Vlad's appearance, and slipped on a white T-shirt as he walked away, leaving the head coach behind with the assistant.

The large man stared at Vlad, chewing on something in his mouth Vlad assumed to be gum. It was blue when it flashed while the man frowned and spoke at the same time, still evaluating the scrawny teenager before him. "Did you cause all of the trouble at the field?"

"I was jus' sitting. Not my fault, 'kay? Didn't- didn't do anything." Vlad mumbled, keeping his eyes low to evade the man's undiluted stare. The gangster hated most forms of attention, and this was one of his least favorite. He liked to be inconspicuous, that was how he survived. He used goof off with his friend when they were alone, and now he could goof off with Anderson because the guy was gay…and he was gay, so he could act however he wanted around the other teen. Right now, however, all he had was unwanted, negative attention.

Snapping gum cut through the mumbles and the coach became impatient, eyes flicking to his assistant and then the teen. Suddenly, his hands slapped down on the sides of his leg and the man sighed. "Well, there's nothing I'm going to do about it. You were just sitting. The bottles rained down from the sky. And the cussing is just what teenagers do every day. You know, Dillon," the coach was evidently speaking to his assistant whose face showed his reluctance to let Vlad off scotch free. The gum snapped again. "you can try and educate this type but nothing is ever going to come of it." The snapping gum carried off with his words, the clashing of metal weights, voices, and grunts from the boys using the weights and machines filling the room. Vlad said nothing and stood on the mat beneath his feet, obedient to the extent that he wasn't cussing or running away. He didn't want to be here. He didn't like it that the men were staring at him like he was a circus freak and speaking as if he wasn't there.

"What's your name?"

The pale face looked up at the couch and then turned away again. "Vlad."

The coach's dark brows lifted with some surprise for the response that didn't sound like a made up name and the gum stopped snapping for a moment. If the kid had said Billy or some other well-used name, he would have been suspicious, but Vlad was not common. His eyes glanced over Vlad's figure. "Can you get on that scale for me? It'll take one second and I'm just going to be using your weight to compare with the average weight of the boys in my class."

It was a strange request, but one Vlad hoped would earn him freedom, so without questioning the man's odd reason, he stepped on the scale, his weight unable to register on the one hundred and sixty two pounds setting left from the previous teen's weigh in. The coach's gum snapped and he reached for the scale to take off ten pounds, and then another ten pounds, and then twenty to move along faster, but the scale never even gave evidence of Vlad's presence. The setting was too heavy, even when the scale reached one hundred and two pounds. The coach took off the two pounds. The scale did not move.

Gum snapped and the coaches were quiet when the man adjusted the scale setting to fifty pounds. The scale immediately registered Vlad, showing that he was much heavier than that weight. Ten pounds were added. Still heavier. Another ten, and then another and the scale began to say that this was close to Vlad's weight. The couch altered the setting, adding one, then two, finally three pounds where the scale hit equilibrium and Vlad's weight was determined, with all of his bulky clothes on, at 83 pounds.

Glaring at the scale with resentful eyes, Vlad scowled. "The damn thing's broken."

"No." The coach let out the word with a breath like he was relieving himself from a weight. "It's in perfect working order. You're just underweight, by a _lot_. I think you should gain about forty pounds, for your height. Around 120 wouldn't be big but it would be healthy for someone your age." A hand slapped on Vlad's back, unbalancing and startling the teen, making him growl a little when the man patted his skinny arm. "Get some muscle. Next time it rains water bottles they won't knock you down."

The hand patted Vlad one final time and the gum snapped with a dull chuckle, then the coach departed to return to his duty of supervising his class. The assistant coach muttered that Vlad could leave if he wanted, and then added quickly that the school had a free lunch program for kids whose families were having financial problems during this economic recession. Abhorring the concept of being pitied and looked down upon, Vlad flipped the assistant off and slipped out the back door to slink off to his closet.

But when he got to the familiar door, he found that it had been locked.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

A finicky seagull padding its webbed feet over the concrete, flapped great white wings to ward off any gull that entered the perimeter of its territory, guarding its package of crushed cheese crackers. Vlad saw the fight of orange bills and wings, the chorus of squawks that rose together at alternating intervals based on the state of the battle. The gull that had focused his efforts on hording his crackers saw defeat, sullenly grabbing a chunk before flying off with his diminished prize while the others picked at the crumbs, flying off with their morsels when their beak found something to occupy it.

You know…I kinda wanted one of those too. Shrugging off the irksome desire that enabled him to associate with the seagulls, the delinquent let his head roll back to hit the wall of cinderblocks behind him. The back lot was occupied by only a few cars, parked close to the locker-rooms. The cinderblocks became an outstretched landscape Vlad peered across, the horizon like the night, the dark underside of the blue ledge of the roof. He stared into the shadowy underside until his neck began to protest, tiring of being forced to crane at this unreasonable angle, and the boy's head fell forward, black hair moving with the same motion, ruffled when a pale hand rubbed at the aching muscles in the back of his neck. After this, Vlad's shoulders were hunched, his hands immersed in the pockets of his baggy jacket, the black hood added over his head when a sprinkling of rain flew on the wind to touch his face. He was cold enough without the added factor of being wet, so he avoided the troublesome water the best he could as he waited outside the boy's locker-room, having already checked to make sure that the door by his side was the only way in and out. Anderson would have to come out sooner or later.

Sooner or later. Sooner or later, goddamn it. The fuckin' bell's already rung, so where the fuck is this bastard? Oh, fricken hell, guys commin' out. Jus' ignore me. That's it. Ignore me. I'm not here… Oh well, worked for the first few. Damn bastards don't have to glare at me, for Christ's sake, that bunch gave me a shit load of dirty looks. Beneath the shadow of Vlad's hood, red eyes tracked the progress of a bunch of boys that had their heads turned back, glaring at him as they continued to walk away. Hope they freaken trip, not lookin' where they're going. Get hit by a car, fuckers.

Feh. The teen sighed, hanging his head for a second, but his spine jerked, straightening him again with the bang of the metal door bursting open with another bunch of teens talking and laughing at some joke Vlad had missed, carrying small athletic bags on their backs or swinging them from their hands. They missed Vlad at first, but the delayed reaction of one of the boys stopped some of the others for a moment when the teen that had noticed Vlad cursed in surprise, gawking back at Vlad before his sneakers scurried him forward with a nervous laugh.

"Holy shit, did that scare me! What the hell, man. Why do people have to do that? Stand there and look all sketchy-like. Ugh." He shuddered dramatically, still trying to dislodge the strike of fear that had disturbed him. "Hoody on and everything. I thought he was gonna pull out a gun or something with those pockets- his hands in 'em. Goddamn it. Almost pissed my pants!" The teen laughed it off with the others that teasingly mocked him, looking back at Vlad to give him an odd or distasteful look before playing with their curiosity by pretending to be scared like their friend. Anderson's head turned and he gave Vlad a cold glare and then did not follow the others' examples, choosing not to play along with their game. He was saying, without words, that Vlad was too disgusting to be the butt of a joke. Hate. It was hate that had made his eyes so cold. Vlad, with his head ducked, hiding his face with his hood, recognized the look with falling hope, but when the group rounded a corner, heading towards the heart of the campus to make their way to the front parking lot, the delinquent followed, keeping a generous distance between them.

They made it to the student parking lot and at the top of the stairs the boys split up, going to their individual cars. Only Anderson descended the stairs. The jock reached his car, popped the trunk and dropped his bag into it, and then went to the driver's door and slipped in, his hand ready to shut the door. But then the teen froze, whiplash burning his neck when his head jerked to the side to stare in alarm as a dark shape slipped onto the passenger's seat. The passenger door shut quickly and pale hands buckled the idle seatbelt before two red eyes looked at the dumbfounded tan face that was gaping at him, too horrified to act. Vlad's lips twitched into a nervous smile and the delinquent nodded to the door.

"Hey. …you gonna close the door? Can't drive too well if it's open, Anderson."

Anderson stared for another moment, attempting to wake himself up from this nightmare. Finally, with a rolling growl, Anderson shut his door shut and slammed both of his hands on his steering wheel, tempted to slam his head into it as well when he groaned in rage and frustration. "What. The Hell. Are You. Doing?" Grating teeth managed to spit out before Anderson's jaws locked together, melted down and fused shut by hot ire.

Vlad's demeanor became more withdrawn and quiet, eyes shifting to the windshield and then the airbag and finally to his own lap. He didn't speak, and Anderson couldn't move his jaws. Snarling aggravation rumbled in Anderson's throat, making him sound like a rapid animal for the seconds where his fists squeezed his steering wheel or released it to smash down on the leather wheel again. Then, still unable to open his mouth, Anderson shoved his key into the ignition and threw the car into reverse. They drove through the parking lot, all the while with Vlad's heart racing and Anderson's blood boiling, both at the brink of an eruption of emotion. They stopped at the stop sign and then turned onto the public road to head for the highway.

The car cooled with the teenagers' emotions, and finally Anderson's jaws could move again. "Don't be a fucking freak tonight, alright? I don't know what I'll end up doing if you act like some- some fucking- damn- shit!" Anderson hissed at the window, unable to continue speaking. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, but got the opportunity to fill with blood again when Anderson turned. Vlad glanced at him, wearing a blank mask, and then looked out the side window to divert his attention to the eucalyptus trees and their hanging leaves, darkened by the winter and cool air so that none of them were bright green or newly grown. Vlad took steady breaths to calm himself, swallowing more than once and blinking frequently while his eyes refused to take in the scenes beyond the window. They were on the highway now, and that was a big source of comfort for the teen. His closet was locked. The school would be locked up. Anderson was his only choice, the only place he could hide…

They drove, a pale hand twitching a few times, itching to turn on the radio, but the irritation stopped when Anderson pushed the volume button that extended the antenna at the back of his car, radio waves streaming through it to bring sound into the car. There was some mild traffic on the highway going north, prolonging their journey home. Some Cranberry and Tunstall played while the two boys were silent and the car hummed along. Anderson turned off to a side road and they picked up speed, stopping at a light and then whizzing down the road. Vlad thought it was just his imagination, that they weren't actually driving as fast as he thought they were, but when they entered the gate and went up Anderson's driveway to park in the garage, Vlad knew that they had been hurrying when Anderson threw open his door and trunk and dashed into the house. Vlad sat alone in the car for some time before wandering into the house. He heard running water rushing through the pipes, and at the stairs, Vlad was sure that Anderson was taking a shower. The delinquent didn't want to aggravate the jock further, so he slunk off to his room and checked on Mari. He was about to leave the room to fetch the plant some water, but the shower cut off. Anderson would be leaving the bathroom shortly, so Vlad waited, not wanting to be spotted, but once he had heard the other teen leave the bathroom and close the door to his bedroom, Vlad hurried into the bathroom closest to his room, bringing the pot with him, and he added some tap water to the dry soil before retreating back into his room. Once this was out of the way and nothing else seemed to grab at Vlad's attention, the gangster kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed, pulling the sheets and the blanket over himself to ward off the constant cool chill that bedeviled his skin.

But this was not to last. Vlad soon heard Anderson's door open and heavy steps march down the hall, stop, and then seem to pace with muttered curses. Then the steps marched to Vlad's door and threw it open, Anderson's hand catching the wooden frame while his eyes took a moment to find the delinquent that was sitting upright and staring at him from the bed. Anderson scowled, his loose watch slipping down from his wrist while his hand remained on the door. Impatience roughened the teen's speech. "I can't leave you here alone, so get in the car." Anderson pointed threateningly at the red eyes when they showed wary surprise, his hand slowly dropping from the doorframe. "Nothing freaky, okay? Absolutely _no freakiness_." With one last glower, Anderson disappeared from the doorway, leaving it gaping, and heavy steps stomped down the stairs. "GET OUT HERE!"

The staggered teen realized that he hadn't moved so he quickly scrambled out of bed and grabbed his shoes before sprinting after the impatient jock that was nearly at the car when Vlad stumbled in the hall to the garage, hopping as he struggled to get his shoe on properly. Anderson frowned back at him and opened the door, then walked towards the car. "Put them on in the car." He was at the driver's door when Vlad grasped the handle for the front seat. "Backseat." Anderson snapped.

Put off by this, Vlad hesitated before following the order. As soon as he shut the door, the garage opened and they were soon on the road again, seemingly chasing the setting sun that burned red beside them.

Still disoriented by the unexpected development, Vlad didn't ask any questions, and only music from the radio was heard in the car. But the red eyes slipped over Anderson's shoulder, noting the green sleeves that were part of a collared shirt made from a soft, and probably expensive, material. Anderson was also wearing dark pants that seemed classy or dressy, overall super expensive, to Vlad, who stared, full of confusion now as he looked at the teen's clothes and the shiny black watch that was trimmed with gold and had diamonds set by each of the numbers. Fuckin' rich-ass get-up he's got going on there. Diamonds! Fuckin' diamonds! Shit, are those really freakin' diamonds? Hell. Are you shitin' with me Anderson, or what? He smells clean and kinda like some fancy cologne…smells kinda good actually. What is it? Smells good…but I'm hungry and, damn it, I was lookin' forward at eating some food. Where the fuck is he taking us? Stupid faggot…stupid fuck…we're in the city…an' it's getting' darker and darker… Vlad's head turned with the passing buildings that towered over the car. The teen calmed a little though his confusion grew until he finally reached a conclusion that brought all of this to light, stunning Vlad into continued silence at the sight of clustered girls and people passing on bikes. They were driving through the dorms and the college students were swarming the sidewalks, trekking off to the library or to their own social life after a solid month of schoolwork following the Thanksgiving Break. Anderson parked and got out of the car without bothering to tell Vlad whether he was supposed to stay or get out to. Vlad decided to stay, and he waited for Anderson to emerge from the dorm building again. A few minutes passed with several students passing Anderson's car and the delinquent sitting in the backseat without so much as a glance, but eventually Anderson opened the door and got into his seat, surprising Vlad . Just as the delinquent had expected, Casey opened the passenger door and sat in the front seat. Blue eyes peered back at Vlad, observing the pale teen that broke the second of eye contact that had been made so that he could look at his arms which he crossed over his chest. Vlad bit his lip and was silent as the car started up and Casey had not tired of looking at him with his blank expression.

"Do you take your charity case everywhere you go, Alex?"

"No." Vlad was the one who muttered and Anderson made no attempt to add to the response. Casey stared at the boy, slowly becoming amused by his pressence. He finally turned around and smiled at Anderson who nervously returned the smile, thankful to have Casey facing forward in the seat again. He didn't want Vlad to be a bothersome distraction.

"We'll give him some money and he can go amuse himself in the arcade." The smile stayed on Anderson, making the teen feel a bit giddy now with the cheerful mood Casey was exhibiting. Anderson nodded with a misplaced chuckle that barely escaped his tightened chest.

"Yup- I mean, yeah. Just give him some money and he'll be set."

I don't mind getting free money…Vlad watched the two from the back seat, sitting directly behind the long haired blonde. His eyes moved around nervously and his arms shifted with restlessness as the car drove through the city streets into the collecting darkness. They were entering a shadier part of town where the highway overpass towered over the shorter buildings and the gas station, the lamp lit sidewalk, and the dark streets. Where the fuck are we going? With uneasiness irritating his nerves, Vlad kept his head down to avoid showing his face to anyone that might recognize him on the streets. But the teen was more at ease when the car pulled into a busy lot behind a Dave & Buster's restaurant, though now he wondered why Anderson was dressed up to go to a place like this. Wasn't this like a classy Chuckecheese's? It made the pale teen frown and shake his head, unable to make sense of it.

Weird place to go on a date, Vlad concluded, once he had left the car, and he followed the others through the glass doors.


	4. Chapter 4

"Here."

With that simple, gruff word, a large hand extended towards Vlad, holding a folded twenty dollar bill. Vlad stared, his eyes dilating and his mouth becoming dry so he couldn't swallow effectively and instead choked. He could buy a good batch of 'magic powder' for this much money…or food. He really, _really _wanted to gorge himself, but these fucktards were telling him to waste this precious money on arcade games? It looked like fun, but…he was _**hungry**_! He wanted _cigarettes _or some _cocaine _for God's sake! Or FOOD. Not games! But Anderson didn't care. He ordered Vlad to play, speaking to the seventeen year old as if he was five, and told him not leave the arcade under any circumstances. He would be able to eat as much food as he wanted when they got home.

As much food as he wanted…that had convinced the gangster, and he grinned at the cold green eyes and took the money before dashing off down the ramp that led to the games so he could exchange his twenty for a card that held credits that would allow him to play games and earn tickets in order to get a prize when he 'cashed in' his earnings later. Picking up a large cup with the Dave and Buster's logo printed on the side, a cup that strangely resembled a large slurpy cup from 7-Eleven, Vlad smiled to himself. This was really fucking awesome, actually. Vlad turned slowly on his feet, gazing at all of the flashing lights and sounds. And he wasn't the oldest one there. Plenty of teens were playing the shooting games, the DDR, and other things. Even adults were playing, and by the booths and the bar there were visible beer bottles and glasses of alcohol that partially explained their juvenile behavior. There were also kids, but their fun wasn't spoiled by the adults or the teens. There was plenty of room that allowed all of the age groups to coexist. Full of excitement that brimmed to the point that Vlad's gaunt face seemed to light up like a little child's, the delinquent let himself enjoy the games, tending to prefer the ones in the unpopulated corners, and indulged in a little fun. He had never played in an arcade before, so it was a new childhood experience that opened some seam to his innocence and he was like a little care-free boy as he played without prejudice eyes watching and scowling at his every move. No one took notice of the gangster. A lot of people were wearing sweatshirts or jackets and he was rather inconspicuous in the less populated corners, so he blended in seamlessly.

Anderson sat down at the square table in the quiet setting of the 'restaurant' portion of the building that was walled off from the arcade and party area. Where they were sitting, the public backdrop of other diners gave off quiet voices from surrounding tables. Some kind of music lay behind the voices, but it was too obscure to be identified. That didn't matter. Anderson couldn't hear the voices or the music when Casey spoke to him, or when Casey looked at him from across the table, or when Casey read through the menu to decide on what he wanted to eat. So engrossed was he in Casey's mystifying presence, Anderson forgot to look at his own menu and was startled when a waitress came to take their order. Casey smiled at the girl and she beamed at the pleasant surprise, chuckling. They knew each other pretty well, having worked many a night together, waiting on tables here at the Dave & Buster's. Casey still worked here, so he would get a discount on whatever he ordered, and having good looks and charisma didn't hurt the amount of generosity his coworkers, and the manager for that matter, showed him, reducing the price of his meal to nothing, though Anderson had insisted on paying full price. Anderson was allowed to pay for the drinks and his own meal, but nothing more. They wanted to treat Casey and refused to allow Anderson to have the privilege. Despite this, the dinner went along nicely, and Anderson listened to every word Casey spoke when he recounted how hard his classes were or how fascinating he had found them to be. Casey wanted to go on to medical school, hopefully Harvard, though that would take him far away from Anderson. When Anderson was in his first year of college, Casey would be in his last. The three years that separated their age seemed more like a physical distance that kept their lives apart. Anderson had met Casey as a Freshman in high school. Casey had been his first love…and he was _still _his first love, and no one else had ever come close to competing with Casey for his true affection.

They talked, they ate, and they even laughed a little, Anderson becoming drunk on the raw spirit of Casey's bubbly, yet graceful, laughter that turned the heads of both men and women. Casey was the epicenter of every point of perfection Anderson could find in life. Casey was everything he desired, everything he cherished, all of his hard work would be put forward for the sake of this blue-eyed man's generous approval, be it only a nod or a smile. Casey was everything beautiful condensed into a single human form, put before Anderson's eyes as a gift straight from Heaven. Anderson loved Casey, and Casey knew that Anderson loved him. Many people loved Casey. It was common, almost insincere in his eyes now. Casey accepted gifts. He accepted affection in various forms, but he rarely did anything to return the feelings he received. He liked Alex. Alex was tall, well-built, and beautiful, as well as rich and brilliant with a future full of potential Casey nearly envied. But this envy was diminished when Alex could so easily be reduced to a puddle of pudding in his hand. Alex was his to mold and use and play with. Also, Alex was his to teach. He was getting better in bed with three years of practice now, and time had only made Alex Anderson's beauty ripen.

Little did Anderson notice how the others at the restaurant would stare at him if their eyes had not been captured by Casey. Together, they inspired many a conversation solely based on admiration of the two blondes. They were beautiful and perfect together, even though they were both male, and even though Anderson was the only one that displayed obvious signs of deep affection. Casey being the female figure, Anderson's doting behavior only made the two more endearing to watch. Their romance was every woman's envy. If only a man would love me or look at me with eyes like his, were their wistful thoughts, and then they would turn back to their dinner and their company and attempt to show as much life and interest in one another to compete with or copy Anderson and Casey. But it was all a futile effort on their part. The two were simply unmatchable. It was silently acknowledged in every corner of the restaurant.

Anderson hummed contently in his throat, his eyes grazing over the fuzzy image of the people around him before his vision became clear and sharp upon finding Casey's hand as it was stroking his own to gain his attention. Emerald green eyes gazed at the older man's face, unable to look away or disguise the blissful smile that swept over his lips.

Casey smiled with smugness lowering his eyes. "That was a pleasant dinner."

"Yeah?" The fingers stroked the tan hand and Anderson's mind clouded. "Good. Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I-" Casey's soft fingertip drew swirls. "I-m…glad…I mean, I wish I could have paid for it. They didn't need to…" His fingers are cold, Anderson realized with a few concerned blinks and his mouth frowned for a moment, looking at the hand. "Are you cold? Do you want a coat or, er…I have my jacket, no it's a coat, in the car."

Casey smiled at the sweet generosity and his smile managed to laugh without his voice. "I'm not cold. You're just hot…your face is looking a little flushed."

Anderson smiled, a bit embarrassed when he felt that his face was beginning to burn. His ears reddened and the boy grinned, calming himself so that the color slowly dissipated as Anderson regained his senses. He was confident and sure of himself again, and he smiled warmly at Casey, all the beauty he ever desired to see in his life. But then Casey looked away and withdrew his hand when Anderson attempted to hold it. They had already paid the bill and now only their drinks remained on the table.

"I want to play a game." Blue returned, smiling, to Anderson, amused by the confused look he had on his face. "I feel like shooting something…how about you?"

"Huh?" Anderson blinked stupidly and then looked at the ramp and shrugged to himself. "Um…no. I don't really feel like _shooting_ anything."

"So…you don't want too?"

Snapping back to attention, Anderson shook his head and apologized, insisting on wanting to shoot something now. He had forgotten about Vlad until that point, so he didn't consider the need to avoid the younger teen when Casey led the way into the arcade and they paid for a card. The private quarters of the Jurassic Park game offered a cushioned bench, enough room for two, and a sliding yellow curtain that procured the intimate darkness the two felt comfortable in. Sliding the card for both of them, Anderson took advantage of their seclusion to wrap his arm around Casey and offer him a soft kiss. It was received and then the arm was shrugged off and Casey lifted his plastic gun, ready to begin their game. Their imaginary jeep rumbled down the dirt path on the screen, driving up to a giant entrance with a sign that told them that they were entering Jurassic Park, in case they were unaware of the name of the game and the movie it was based off of.

"Ready for Area-1?"

Casey's chuckle echoed in Anderson, and he found that he was enjoying Casey's playful mood. He smiled peacefully to himself, eyes gazing easily at the screen. When the head of a Tyrannosaurus Rex threw itself in front of the fake jeep, the unexpected action made the teen gasp and drop his gun, while Casey laughed knowingly and then waited for the fake jeep to maneuver around the ancient lizard king. Then, the screen whitened, as if they had passed through a cloud of fog, and their view rotated back to get a view of the T-Rex as it lumbered after them, mammoth jaws gaping with hundreds of bare teeth ready to snatch at them. Casey fired several shots while Anderson fumbled with his gun before he could offer the more skilled dinosaur hunter some aid.

"'Shoot at the head.'" Casey snickered when Anderson grumbled at the flashing hint on the screen. The bold red letters were easy to see.

"Glad I can read. Now I know what to do when a T-Rex is after me."

Casey smirked, blasted his gun and tilted it back to reload so he could empty another magazine of lead into the beast.

"Damn, it's fast!" Anderson cringed when the jaws seemed to bite him. They drove off the dinosaur with more bullets but it soon caught up with them again. "Damn…it should be a cross country runner or something."

"It'd eat up all the competition, that's for sure. …Now look at that, Alex. You let it bite me."

"I'm trying!"

"I'm dying, Alex."

"No you're not."

"Just play along with it."

"YES! It's finally dead!" Anderson was filled with self gratification, his face broadened by a toothy smile and he laughed while Casey snorted at his enthusiasm.

"It just got up again."  
"What? What the hell? Oh _come _on! It was so dead! God…I'll just kill it again. Damn monster…." He fired his weapon and Casey fired as well, but then the dinosaur's massive head prevented it from following them into an underground tunnel, and the two were able to take a breather.

"Look out for the raptors."

Anderson looked at Casey with confusion and then jolted when two gray raptors jumped out at them. The duo fired on the dinosaurs. The tunnel opened to a plain with mountains in the background and galloping dinosaurs that the two humans slaughtered as they scattered to escape the bullets. Other dinosaurs ran by and still more slashed at their jeep, trying to kill the humans even though they were only 2-Dimensional prehistoric beasts on a screen.

"Anderson, you just drove into a Triceratops. Who the hell gave you a license?"

"Funny…I think I'm doing pretty well without a steering wheel, don't you think? And look out…that fat one's coming back to pick a fight with us."

"Because you rammed into his ass."

"He should've moved- Whatever, just shoot him, Casey. I don't feel like dying at the moment. Let's kill a few more dinosaurs first."

"Right. The whole herd is after us, so we should probably be concerned."

They continued to retreat in reverse to escape the herd of Triceratops, driving across a river where they lost the herd, and then into the jungle where new dangers awaited them. Unfortunately, the jungle became their grave as both of the valiant fighters lost their lives. Undeterred, Anderson offered to swipe the card again, but Casey waved him off and insisted on going to a different game, a newer one that had been occupied before. They left to see if it was still occupied and were disappointed to find the curtain drawn and the sounds of gunfire, shrieking dinosaurs, and mechanized human voices. Lost World - Jurassic Park was not available for use. Casey sighed and Anderson frowned at the occupant who he perceived to be too old for arcade games…which was old considering this was the opinion of an eighteen year old who had just been enjoying a game with a twenty (almost twenty-one) year old college student. Green eyes wandered while they dithered for a moment, unable to decide on their next action.

Then, from where he was standing behind the game, Anderson was reminded of the undesirable presence that loomed over his happiness when he spied Vlad shooting hoops at a timed basketball game by the wall. Vlad was alone, but he seemed to be quite zealous with regards to his performance for the sake of the game.

Casey noticed the gangster as well and ventured towards the pale teen when he found no evidence of the man who was currently shooting dinosaurs, tiring of the game. Unwillingly, Anderson hurried after Casey when he noticed that he had left his side.

Vlad was pretty 'okay' at it. He made five out of the seven attempts they saw him make, and while the game continued and the lights and sound polluted the previously gloomy corner, Vlad failed to notice his audience until he panted with a smile on his face, looking up at his score while six tickets hung from the machine, waiting for Vlad to rip them off and stuff them with the others in the cup that was sitting on the side of the basketball game.

"How much do you have left on your card?"

Vlad gaped at Casey, taking an startled step back before he was able to recognize who Casey was and realize that the large shadow was only Anderson standing next to him. The teen sighed with relief, still slightly out of breath from all of the fun he had been having, and his hands, not knowing what to do with themselves, hid in the pockets of his jacket and he just stood facing the two blondes, fidgeting a few times out of discomfort. How long had they been watching him act like a stupid idiot?

"I dunno…" The card was fished out of the oversized pocket and held out by a pale hand that offered the card to the two staring eyes. Vlad licked his lips and showed the card specifically to Anderson. "I was jus' playin' games like you said…here. You want it…there's still some stuff left on it. Not a lot, but I was here for a while…and I kinda used it a lot for games and…just the shit 'round here." The delinquent took a deep breath and shrugged, clearing his throat when Anderson's hand didn't move to take the card. "So…you wanna take it or not?" He added after a moment.

"No. We have our own."

Anderson's eyes never softened and his overall expression never thawed from the icy dislike he showed Vlad. The thinner teen blinked and looked at his card before shoving it back into his pocket where he stored his hands as he waited for the blondes to state their business or give him a news update on what was going on. Were they going home? Were they gonna have dessert? Were they gonna run off and fuck in the public restroom? Vlad didn't know, so he waited for them to tell him, losing patience when the staring continued. Vlad recalled his cup and the lonely tickets he had just earned, so he gathered them together to waste some time.

The gangster shuffled his feet and let his eyes sweep the area, running along the row of flashing games. They were alone and did not have any unwanted attention at the moment. While Vlad was looking around, Anderson lifted his wrist with a sigh after a final glance back at the Jurassic Park booth Casey had wanted to play. It was still occupied, so emerald eyes flashed at the black watch. It was getting late. If he left now to take Casey back , he'd there at about 7:30 p.m. That wasn't especially late, but Casey had other plans that night.

The loss of the possible continuation of Casey's playful mood weighed on the jock's chest, leaving him disappointed and somewhat hostile towards the man using the Jurassic Park game. But his inward thoughts were shredded, becoming trivial things that disintegrated when Casey pulled at his pants, stunning the teen so that he froze and stared at the shoulder-length blonde that glimmered with the flashing arcade lights. Casey's hand disappeared into Anderson's pocket and came out again with the card. The piece of plastic waved in front of the teen's glasses and a devilish smile appeared on Casey's lips, aware of what thoughts had visited the younger blonde head.

"Lets use up the card." The card cut through the air to point to the basketball hoops behind Vlad. "Else…it'll go to waste."

Widened green eyes blinked while the teen stared at Casey. Hesitating, Anderson looked at the basketball hoops. "Okay." He took a breath and followed Casey to the line of basketball games, where they selected two for themselves. The card brought the games out of their monotonous blinking boredom, and the grateful machines sang out and lights danced as if for a jubilee as bright orange basketballs rolled forward, towards hands that snatched them up quickly, to throw the balls, hopefully, into the basket. Swishes and odd _thunks _came when shots made it into the hoops or missed and hit the metal walls or the cage that kept the balls from escaping.

Vlad watched mutely, taken aback by the insight he had been granted into the blondes' relationship.

"Alex, slow down."

"No way."

"…Your shoes are untied."

"I'm not walking anywhere. Only need my hands, Casey."

"Damn it."

They raced against the clock.

Anderson, the jock, made fifteen out of seventeen shots, while Casey faired pretty well himself, with ten out of his fourteen shots making it into the basket. When the timer buzzed and the balls stopped returning, the very last shots were taken and Anderson let out a fake gloating laugh when he smirked at Casey's score.

"I win."

"Right, next round."

They played the game again, and then moved on to another game, and then another, teasing one another at times and exhausting their sarcasm. The blondes visited the Crane Game without catching anything with the metal claw that had little strength though it was made to look like it was qualified to pick up the Snoopy plushies with ease. The Spin-N-Win! called to them next with the chance to get 1000 tickets in one go it they were able to stop the spinning light on the right bulb at the top of the great wheel. Redemption games, horse racing games, super trivia games, Virtual Cop # 3; Casey led Anderson about the massive arcade, familiar with most, if not all, of the games, able to tell Anderson which games were no good and which ones he thought were only okay such as Need For Speed Underground which had been 'a disappointment' for him. Vlad followed them, occupying games that could be found in the general area the two blondes moved to. His card ran out shortly, leaving him with only the option to watch the others, but the single card could not support both Anderson's and Casey's energy for long. The two, much to Vlad's distaste, used up the last of their credits for a game called Extreme Hunting 2, where the two slaughtered many helpless animals while Vlad glared at them in the shadow of Tokyo Cop . Once the card had expired, Anderson was shepherded into the prize room where the walls were covered in baskets laden with toys and shelves that displayed a few more 'costly' prizes that were a bit more technologically advanced than a Beanie Baby.

Anderson carried the cup of tickets he shared with Casey, eyes following the man to see what caught his attention, but Casey only seemed to be mildly interested in any of the prizes as he plucked up a stuffed tiger and then threw it back into its basket, rejecting it cruelly. Casey turned after a while with a slight frown when he saw the tickets in Anderson's hand. "Go get them counted Alex. You're slower than your charity case."

Bearing the heat of the insult, Anderson instantly developed more aversion for the gaunt delinquent, his eyes searching for the large black jacket that was easily identified with Vlad. The gangster was leaving the ticket counter where his tickets had been weighed on an electric scale. Anderson took his place, giving the man at the counter his cup of tickets. The tickets were dumped carelessly into a plastic container on the scale. Red numbers told the amount and Anderson received a white paper that resembled a receipt.

While Anderson joined Casey in their indifferent search for something to exchange their tickets for, red eyes, round and highlight by a strange light, stared at all of the prizes, his boney fingers clutching the receipt he had received, creasing the slip of paper. Vlad only owned the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet. At this point in time, his material wealth was about to double. He would own his clothes _and_ whatever he picked from these shelves.

He hadn't owned a toy since he was eleven years old. Vlad had loved stuffed animals as a child. The boy had loved everything as a child, sensitive and deprived of human contact while he had been kept inside and home schooled with only his parents and his babysitter for company. When he was a boy, Vlad had named his socks and all of his other clothes and then anxiously fretted over giving each article of clothing enough attention. If he had neglected to wear a certain pair of green socks for a week, guilt would force the boy to wear the socks all day, and he would apologize to the socks as if their feelings had been hurt.

But now Vlad had the chance to own stuffed animals again, to actually be the keeper of legally acquired possessions. The teen experienced the thrill of wealth when his authoritative hand hovered over the baskets of stuffed animals. The Beanie Babies cost the most, but they were also the cutest and the highest quality plush available. Vlad's eyes grew again, focusing on a brown, sad looking cat with droopy whiskers. The dark brown eyes gazed back at the teen, the endless black pupils reflecting everything they could see, while a secret evaluation of the teen was taking place in the cat's cotton brain. A pale hand gently scooped up the cat that was about the same size as, or barely larger than, the hand itself. Vlad listened to the murmur coming from the 'beans', the beads in the stuffed toy, as they shifted with the altered position of the cat. Vlad held onto the cat, checking the 'price' of the stuffed animal with an anxious glance. He smiled with a great wave of relief when he saw that he had enough tickets, plus a little extra left over, to buy the fake creature. The pale teen wandered about the room, taking his time as he looked into the eyes of the stuffed toys.

"Hey."

The gruff voice that could only belong to one person in Vlad's mind, turned the teen around so that he saw the two blondes at the counter, exchanging their ticket's worth for a few prizes. There was a hand held fan, some candy, and a few toy army men with parachutes attached to their backs. Anderson wasn't making an effort to hide his impatience when he gestured to the counter with his hand in a way that implied that Vlad was doing something stupid. "Come on, bring your stuff. We're leaving, with or without you."

Urgency shooting through him, Vlad hastily selected a little penguin and then went to the counter. Sudden dread hit him as soon as he heard the scoff the prizes he had chosen earned from the jock. Embarrassed as he was by his choices now, Vlad bit down on his lip and gave the woman behind the counter his receipt so that he could become the owner of these toys. She checked the value of the plushies, and then paused, adding up the worth of each toy again. She swiped at her bangs and then looked at Vlad, wincing when she got a good look at his face. Her eyes dove to the counter and she spoke to the smooth blue surface. "You don't have enough for both. You can chose something else over there." Her hand pointed to a corner. "The cat is worth a lot of tickets so you might want to drop it and get a different one."

Anderson had already given a grunt of anger that made Vlad chew on his lip, coming close to breaking the skin. Casey was quiet, though his finger tapped on his arm. He wanted to go. He had tired of the arcade and the kiddy setting.

Red connected with the brown eyes of the cat again and Vlad held it against his jacket, looking down at it. He shook his head and put the cat back on the counter and picked up the penguin.

"I'll jus' get the cat then. That's it, though. I'm done."

The woman paused and then shrugged as she completed the 'transaction'. She ripped up Vlad's receipt when the gangster walked back to the wall of prizes to return the penguin. Then, with his new cat, Vlad caught up with the blondes that had left him behind, and the three exited the Dave & Buster's in silence.

Outside, a cop in the parking lot squinted at Vlad but then noticed his company and decided against making a move, so the officer stayed in his vehicle while Vlad got into the back seat of Anderson's car. Anderson started the motor, and the car drew out of its parking space and they were soon on the dark streets, making their way towards the interstate. They passed the same Shell gas station they had seen earlier and continued along the road. When they were finally on the highway, heading north again, Anderson's eyes flicked up to his rearview mirror to see the dark shadow in the back seat.

"You got a stuffed cat?"

Vlad held onto the animal whose official 'Beanie'-name was Brownie, feeling the soft velvety fur and the plush of the stuffing inside the cat, as well as the weight of the beads. He said nothing while his teeth dented his bottom lip and then the side of his mouth as he thought, biting down on a flare of anger. "So what? You-you got the freaken army people."

Casey spoke next. "I got those. I'm planning on attaching them to balloons."

Oh….okay…. Vlad focused on his lap, not caring for what Casey had to say about his stupid army people. White fingers stroked the cat and he swallowed, still possessed by the high of purchasing something. His finger ran over a brown ear.

"Anderson-" Vlad faltered, unsure for a moment. There was only quiet through the endurance of the delay. "Thanks…for the games…and the cat."

The quiet continued. Anderson never responded to what Vlad had said. A few minutes later, however, he struck up a conversation with Casey and the two ignored the black haired boy in the back seat for the rest of the trip. When they dropped Casey off, music was blasting from the highly populated dorms. Casey stuffed the army men in his pocket and then got out of the car, saying goodbye to Alex before disappearing into the throng of students. Anderson stared after Casey, even when he could no longer see the man, and a cold emptiness entered the car. Casey had left quickly. There was no goodbye kiss. No hug. He hadn't even squeezed Anderson's hand like he sometimes did. And he hadn't given Anderson a chance to walk him to his room.

Casey had not wanted to be seen with him. That's what this quick departure said, but Anderson refused to accept it since he had walked Casey to his room many times before. It had to be because of Vlad. Casey was upset, or Casey had been afraid that Vlad would get out of the car as well. He didn't want to be seen with the freak, so he had not let Anderson accompany him. That was what had happened.

Anderson put the car in reverse and drove away from the tall, windowed building that would most likely be littered with cups and trash in the morning. He didn't say a word. Vlad, in the back seat, pitied Anderson for the cold treatment and felt some resentment towards Casey. The blue-eyed blonde was an ungrateful bitch, in his opinion.

All of this made Vlad scowl in disgust. "He didn't even say thank you. Fuck. _I've_ got better manners than that- than _him_."

"_Shut up freak_."

The deadly snarl made Vlad gulp and lean into his seat. He moved the cat's paws and then played with its tail quietly while the car rocketed past street lights on the highway before entering a stretch that was not illuminated by any public light source, only the taillights from other cars.

Finally the quiet was dispelled by the sound of the radio jumping to life at the push of a button. Vlad looked at the car's stereo, checking for the station while his ears listened to the song that was playing. He didn't recognize it. He didn't recognize the next song either, but the third was a song that managed to make him pet the cat with a small smile. Meet Virginia….

…_she only drinks coffee at midnight. _An interesting owl, that Virginia. And she wants to be queen…queen of the owls… His thoughts ran alongside the lyrics.

The next song stretched the smile into a wide grin, Vlad's spirits significantly lifted by his luck. The House Of the Rising Sun, by The Animals. He recognized it by the melody, before the words of the song began. The teen was prepared when the singing commenced, and he joined in, stiffening Anderson's shoulders against the driver's seat.

"_There is a house in New Orleans  
They call the Rising Sun  
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy  
And God I know I'm one _

_My mother was a tailor  
She sewed my new bluejeans  
My father was a gamblin' man  
Down in New Orleans_

Now the only thing a gambler needs  
Is a suitcase and trunk  
And the only time he's satisfied  
Is when he's on a drunk"

When the solo began, a hiss ran over the organ's notes. Anderson growled. "Shut up, okay? No one wants to hear you sing. You ruin the song."

Perturbed, Vlad frowned and missed the beginning of the next segment of the song that played behind his voice.

_Oh mother tell your children  
Not to do what I have done  
Spend your lives in sin and misery  
In the House of the Rising Sun _

"I'm sorry you're in such a bitchy mood Anderson. My singing must be _too good _for you."

There was another growl, lower than the previous one. "Just shut up…or do you want me to get off at the next exit and dump you on the side of the road? You can sleep in the gutter. I have _no reason _to take you to my house."

With that cruel reminder, Vlad bit on his tongue, stilling it when it wanted to cuss at the blonde head of spiky hair. _Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. _His enraged thoughts repeated and the song rolled on.

_Well, I got one foot on the platform  
The other foot on the train  
I'm goin' back to New Orleans  
To wear that ball and chain_

Well, there is a house in New Orleans  
They call the Rising Sun  
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy  
And God I know I'm one 

Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, also by The Animals came on next, just to taunt Vlad. He had the brown cat dance to the music, to amuse himself.

_Baby, do you understand me now_

_Sometimes I feel a little mad_

_But you know that no one alive_

_Can always be an angel_

_When things go wrong I seem to be bad_

_But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good_

_Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood_

God, did he want to sing along with this song.

But he knew that he could not afford to anger Anderson further, so the ride passed on in quiet.

…

That douchebag. Singing wasn't a crime.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Anger pulsed through the blonde's veins, his hands holding his phone in his lap as he slouched in his desk chair. His fingers typed out a text message.

_Casey are u mad at me? Im-_

Anderson backspaced furiously, starting over.

_Im sorry about tonight_

_Next time will be-_

Growling, his finger attacked the backspace button.

_Casey if youre mad at me im sorry_

_Really really sorry about tonight and about bringing that freak_

_He just got in the car and I was running late and…_

Fuck! Anderson erased his message and scowled menacingly down at the reflective surface of his phone's screen. Fuck! He couldn't just text Casey. Everything sounded so lame! And he couldn't call. That'd be even worse! He was trapped, with nothing to do. Casey was mad. Casey was mad. _Casey was mad_. If he was _mad_, he wouldn't _call _again. He wouldn't want to _hang out_. He wouldn't want to _come over_. **He wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday with Anderson.**

They had planned to go out to dinner the day after Casey's birthday, since that was when Casey was free to spend time with Anderson. They usually only met up once or twice a month, but December was the most important month of the year for them. …And that stupid son-of-a-bitch freak was going to ruin it.

Itching with aggravation, Anderson spun his chair to the side and chucked his phone at his bed where it skipped over the comforter and was caught by the blonde's pillows. Anderson turned back to his desk and frowned moodily at his closed laptop, thinking of nothing for a time.

Out of nowhere, something cold tapped against his temple. Anderson whipped around, slapping the alien abject away instinctively, and soon stared up at the sickly features of the gangster. Green checked the door and found that it was open. Next, the green eyes searched for whatever had touched him and discovered the brown cat in Vlad's hand, and the black plastic nose it possessed.  
The round eyes soon became narrowed and malevolent in nature. He snapped back at Vlad's unwelcome intrusion. "What do you want?"

Vlad took his time, unsure of how to deal with Anderson at the moment. He licked his lips thoughtfully and held onto his cat. "Was wondering…" He murmured, watching as green eyes darkened. "…if I could have something to eat."

Anderson glared at Vlad, filled with too much disdain to speak. "Why should I give you anything? What have you ever earned in life? What have you ever done that would make you deserve food? Huh?" What makes you worthy of your next breath, you damn freak?

Vlad observed the thoughts that swarmed beneath the surface of the green glare, and the delinquent had to divert his eyes for a moment, forcing himself not to acknowledge what Anderson had said. "I thought….I was acting good tonight. I did everythin' you told me to do, right?" Anderson was still glaring at him, increasing the anxiety in Vlad's knotted nerves. Fingers massaged the brown cat. "You- you promised that I could have food." As much food as I wanted. Don't fuckin' tell me you were lyin' to me again! I am damn hungry….god please Anderson. Fuckin' give me some food…

Anderson turned his chair away, giving his back to Vlad. Then he opened his laptop.

"Get out."

Growing cold, Vlad stared at the back of the blond head. Then filling with horror, Vlad thought of the twenty dollars he had been forced to waste on stupid games. He thought of the stupid cat he had gotten when candy had been available. It was all so stupid! He was so stupid, wasting all that when he was hungry! He was hungry…

A pale-pink tongue darted over Vlad's lips and he stepped to the side of Anderson's chair and then held out the brown cat. "I'll give you my cat for some food."

Heat instantly pricked at his eyes. He didn't want to give up the cat. It was stupid, but it was also not stupid.

Anderson appeared to be unmoved, a pitiless gaze landing on the gangster while the laptop loaded. "I don't want the stupid thing."

"It's not stupid!" Vlad's volume surprised Anderson, but then it seemed to anger him more as Vlad worried the cat with fumbling hands. "See!" He showed Anderson the cat, pointing out its limbs and head and then its ears and tail. "It's cute! You can keep it on a shelf, or on your bed! And look, still has the tag! Like one of 'em collector things! You could- you could give it to your boyfriend if you've got one, or um that other guy! It's nice, right? It's awesome, definitely worth more than one meal, but I'm givin' it to ya for only some food! C'mon." Vlad's poor sale's pitch did _little _to persuade the jock, but his argument and his volume did _a lot more _to aggravate the moody teen. Anderson stood up, looming over the hunched gangster who backed away in alarm and then watched Anderson warily. Red eyes brightened, expanding to await an attack while Vlad wetted his chapping lips again and took a breath. "I'm hungry so I'm givin' ya a good deal."

Anderson's face twitched. "You're _disgusting_." He spat out and then pointed savagely at the cat, almost reaching to snatch it away before Vlad stepped back again, getting closer to the wall. "I freaken practically paid for that and now you try to barter it for food? When it is practically mine? I don't want it either! It's a useless, ugly rag!"

"_Rag_? What the fuck are you talking about? _Rag_?" Vlad looked at the cat and then shoved it towards Anderson's face so that he could see its condition. "It's fuckin' new! Shit, Anderson, it's adorable! Not ugly! What the hell are you gettin' at callin' it ugly?"

There was a gasp and the cat hurtled towards the bed and smacked against the side of the mattress before crumpling in a twisted heap on the carpet. Vlad gawked at Anderson's brutality and then backed up to the wall when the angry jock advanced with quick wild movements matching his flaming temper.

"You have no right to talk about Casey!"

Red blinked and Vlad gaped at the distorted mouth and glaring eyes. "I wasn' talking 'bout him-"

"Before!" A large hand waved through the air, close enough to the gangster to make him flinch. "Before! You mentioned him before just now! Why the hell would he want some stupid stuffed animal _you've_ touched? Why would anyone want it now? You're disgusting and dirty and smell-! Looking at you makes me sick to my stomach! So why the hell would I give you food you will never earn? Why the hell should-" Hands caught boney shoulders and then Vlad's thin arms, holding him when the delinquent tried to slip away. The wide, emerald eyes were burning with loathing as the tan face lowered toward Vlad, sparking fear in the red eyes below. The tan hands tightened, oblivious to the pain they might be able to inflict. "- Why the hell should I let you stay in my house? I shouldn't! I should throw you in a ghetto! In the streets to get shot or let you overdose on meth or heroin, whatever you do!"

Vlad's chest was hitching with irregular breaths when he cut in. "I don't do those. I'm ah-just a crack-head…"

The fire in Anderson's eyes intensified and his hands tightened until Vlad grimaced. Anderson didn't notice that as his face pulled away from Vlad the distance between their faces did not increase. "You're a _freak_. You should just _**die**__._ …There's no helping you. Nothing. **You aren't**. _**Even**_. **Worthy ****of food**." Each segment of his claim came out in lowering growls. Vlad was subdued, watching the hatred Anderson bore for him, emptily.

His voice was calm and quiet when he spoke to Anderson, saying each word with prolonged slowness. "Yeah. I'm a freak, Anderson. A disgustin' freak." Anderson said nothing when Vlad continued with a strained nod. "I'm gross and everythin' else, 'kay? You're right 'bout everything."

The tan hands tightened again and Anderson glared. "Why are you talking to me like I'm stupid?"

"I'm not. I'm talking to ya like you're mad."

"Mad!"

Vlad had to yell to cut off the next bout of rage. "Angry! Anderson! Angry kind of mad! Jesus F-ing Christ. You're angry, so I'm talkin' to ya like you're angry!"

Confused now, Anderson frowned but maintained his glare. "What?"

"Just, you're right. Everything you're sayin' is right. I'm disgusting and I should just keel over and die, 'kay? But killing me ain't worth the trouble for ya."

Calmed to a reasonable degree, Anderson observed the troubled look on Vlad's face, how the red eyes wouldn't blink as they stared up at him. The white jaw was tight with anticipation for what would come next. Watching this, Anderson's mind went over everything that had just happened, since he had thrown his phone, until now. This pointed him out as the one being in the wrong…but he wasn't in the wrong. If he didn't look at this from a detached point of view, he could feel his fury begin to collect over his head like a hurricane ready to crash over the coast. As his thoughts drew on, Vlad hung in Anderson's grasp, propped up against the wall. As long as there was the possibility of Anderson going into another rage, Vlad wouldn't dare to move, though his muscles were beginning to cramp already.

"So…jus' like I said." Eyes connected, one staring up and one peering slightly down, both faces blank, while the eyes contained their only form of expression. Vlad's were widened and rarely blinked, while Anderson's were still narrowed. Vlad swallowed and then continued. "Like I said, killin' me or beatin' me to a pulp isn't worth ya trouble. I'll just go to the other room and if you don't want the cat, I'll take it with me…'kay?"

Anderson said nothing for a moment, his unshifting glare making Vlad nervous. Finally he spoke. "I'm not going to beat you up, and I'm not going to kill you. I'm not like the trash you usually hang around."

Awed by the feeling of relief he received from this statement, Vlad's anxiety dropped with his sigh. Then a smirk rose on his face when he felt that the danger had passed. "You know…Anderson…you're gonna hafta get more used to this…."

The frown returned on the jock's face. "What do you mean?"

Vlad's smirk broadened, but was altered by a bit of sheepishness. "You're holdin' me off the ground again."

Stunned by this, Anderson gazed at the delinquent without his glare. His eyes slowly flowed down the space between them and ended on the black shoes that were suspended above the ground. When his eyes returned to Vlad's face again, the gangster smiled his sheepish smile without as much arrogance. Anderson wasn't putting him down as quickly as he thought he would.

"Could you put me down sometime? I'm not really into bein' picked up like a doll er something'."

After another moment where Vlad's smile began to waver, Anderson put the black shoes back on the carpet and let go of the gangster. Pale lips flashed another smile and then ducked with the rest of Vlad when he fetched the stuffed cat and went out the open door without looking back. Anderson was left standing beside the wall, looking at his door.

Time passed with Anderson busying himself with his laptop for a few minutes before he gave up and walked to the room Vlad was hiding in. He knocked on the door and told the gangster to get his butt down in the kitchen to eat some food before he changed his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

What is the best way to describe a Saturday morning? Depending on the age and occupation of the individual who is experiencing the Saturday morning, the morning can be interpreted and experienced in different ways. For the typical teenager, Saturday morning does not exist.

Saturday morning is not experienced by the majority of the teenage population, the ones who force the morning to act as an extension of the previous night. In this case, Saturday morning is shoved under the pillow of a sleeping head and Saturday afternoon takes the morning's place.

Alex Anderson, however, was not thrown in amongst the majority. When his alarm clock went off at exactly 5:55 A.M., a voice informing listeners about the newest celebrity gossip welcomed Anderson into his Saturday morning, two emerald eyes opening as his well trained body obediently sat up and turned towards the clock to make sure he had not overslept. Without a sigh or a complaint, Anderson got out of bed and readied to define his personal Saturday morning.

He would not lounge around in his pajamas. He decided that his morning without school would be spent properly clothed and refreshed. Two tan hands pulled up a pair of Levi blue jeans and then stripped off the shirt he had worn to bed in exchange for a casual T-shirt that he covered with a dark grey sweatshirt to dull the bite of the cool morning that threatened to tempt him to seek warmth from his bed. After brushing his hair, his mind instantly went to the next part of his morning ritual.

This was Alex Anderson's Saturday morning, defined by his self implied customs. He got dressed, groomed himself, and ate breakfast every Saturday morning. That was his morning. That was how his morning was supposed to proceed. He was _supposed_ to go down stairs and eat breakfast after he opened his bedroom door. But when Anderson opened his door and his eyes peered down the hall and fastened onto the door that was opposite to his own, Alex Anderson's Saturday morning…changed.

Green eyes stared at the door, remembering the presence that should be behind it. So far, in the mornings after the freak had spent the night at his house, Anderson would be wakened before his radio had the chance to click on. On the first morning, Vlad had licked Anderson awake. On the second morning, Vlad had woken Anderson by pouncing on him. This morning, with the delinquent in attendance, was out of the ordinary, breaking the pattern that had so far been sustained.

Anderson was awake…and Vlad was still asleep…or at least, Anderson assumed he was.

Curious now to know whether or not Vlad was still sleeping, the jock quietly walked down the stretch of hallway and reached for the doorknob. He took a slow moment to turn it, but soon after his eyes settled somewhat smugly on the lump that was still curled up in bed.

Alex Anderson might be above performing most actions motivated by human faults, but he was not above relishing the sinfully sweet taste of a satisfying act of revenge. And so, his lips curled with an impish grin and large bare feet carefully picked out steps among the carpet threads in order to approach the oblivious sleeping lump in silence. Green eyes flickered with shards of light thrown into his irises by blazing thrill and anticipation that consumed his thoughts, focused on the lump while coming to savor each step that was successfully made without a sign of disturbance coming from the slumbering teen. Creeping up to the side of the bed, Anderson could look down and see the back of the head of raven hair and only part of the delinquent's pale face. He saw an ear peeking between the stands and a piece of a hunger defined cheek. Vlad was curled up snuggly in the guest room's blankets, with most of his face tucked into the warm covers that provided him with the intimate solace of a comfortable nest. But Vlad's tranquility did nothing to dissuade Anderson. Rather, it made his grin widen and break open to show his white teeth. His body leaned forward, creating a shadow that cut off whatever light from the open door that could touch the sleeping form, leaving Vlad in total darkness when Anderson, mimicking the gangster's previous actions, brought himself to hover over the younger teen.

Green eyes stared unblinkingly and the toothy smile opened further, leaving not only Anderson's lips parted but also his teeth when his smile adopted qualities of fiendish pleasure. There was an absence of sound in the room for a few more moments, as Vlad's breaths whispered quietly in a peaceful rhythm.

However, both the rhythm and the silence were shattered when Anderson lowered his lips to place them beside the pale ear he saw.

…

"**Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah**_**!"**_

A wordless exclamation shot clear through Vlad's ear, impaling his mind, and exited out through his other ear to bury itself in his pillow. Alarm bells rang in the distressed teen, thoughts and instincts being flung in every which direction where they collided to make the clearest deduction Vlad was currently capable of. Panic, fear, and despair defined Vlad's early Saturday morning when he curled up as tightly as he could, keeping his eyes shut and as much of himself hidden under the blankets as possible while his body instinctively trembled. He cowered in complete submission; a surrender and confession that he could not escape or resist his attacker, showing - like any other animal that submits to a stronger specimen - that he was the inferior.

Oh God, I'm going to die._ Oh God, I'm going to die._

Vlad whimpered involuntarily with these thoughts, yearning to live, experiencing the welling desire to pursue music, thirsting for time so that he could accomplish something, so that he could experience things, graduate high school…do something that would not allow him to be forgotten, not to be no one and nothing… These thoughts were interrupted callously by the deep throated chortle that reverberated inside Vlad's ear, causing him to shrink further into the covers and emit a thin, miserable whine.

"You're so _pathetic_, it's just _sad_." The chortle lengthened into a chuckle and then rose in volume to become a laugh that jostled the bed, alarming Vlad as his bewildered mind groped for steady ground, for something he could understand while trapped in the static storm of his panic. "You're a coward, pathetic and weak. All of your tough talk and gangster crap is just for show."

Vlad was still hiding in the blanket, adding to Anderson's smugness - a feeling the jock flaunted when he took his time telling the freak that he had just been humiliated. "What? You think something's after you?" Anderson's smile twisted up into his cheek with bitter loathing slipping into his mocking tone. "Really? I'm the only one that could be waking you up, but you're _still _freaking out. It's just…pathetic." The jock laughed, snorting to himself. "Completely and untterly _pathetic._"

The alarm bells died off and the situation stabilized in Vlad's mind. Two red eyes peeked out from under the blanket to roll up at Anderson's smile, the gloating superiority and pleasure in the expression that bore down at the delinquent. Vlad blinked, moving his mouth without saying anything, muted by surprise and numbing relief. It didn't take long for him to recover. Then outrage and indignity heightened his volume so that he could cuss the jock out of the bed.

"GET THE _FUCK _OFF OF ME AND GET THE _FUCK _OUT! WHO THE _FUCK_ DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I'M GONNA KICK YOUR SORRY-"

"**Shut up**. …Stop with the yelling. -I mean it. I'm not in the mood for one of your freak-fits." The threatening voice cut Vlad off while Anderson began to leave, having already abandoned the bed. Vlad sat fuming in his scattered nest of blankets, one fist of knuckles shaking with anger as the hand clasped some of the warm cloth.

"I thought someone was fucking here to kill me, and it ends up just being you."

Anderson turned to look back at the gangster from the door and after a moment he grinned unpleasantly, again enjoying his successful revenge. Vlad scowled, filling with disgust that drove him to look away from the hateful humor and curse to himself even after Anderson had left the room.

Still resentful, the pale teen threw himself back into his covers, burying himself so that he could resume his sleep. But as minutes passed and the sound of kitchen ware clinking together floated up the stairs and through his open door, Vlad could not ignore the demands from his stomach for the sake of a few more minutes of sleep. Within seconds the guest room was void of life, without Vlad, Mari, or the stuffed cat in sight.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

With the cat crammed into his pocket, its head and forelegs swinging about when the teen peeked at what Anderson was doing, moving from one side of the towering jock to the other, Vlad held his plant firmly in his arms, the tendons in his hands twitching when his mouth began to salivate. The blonde who was currently cooking over the stove, frowned at the pest by his arm, a tan hand occupied by a spatula, ready to turn a golden pancake.

"What do you want?" He grunted after a few irritating moments.

Wide red eyes stared at Anderson's face, very openly using his expression to tell the teen his answer.

_I'm hungry. _

"Can I have a pancake?"

Annoyed by the question, Anderson grimaced at the thought of giving Vlad one of the pancakes he was making, raising a brow at the plant and then the brown cat when they distracted him. Green attempted to focus solely on the pancakes whose batter was bubbling at the edges and needed his cooking expertise at the moment. He flipped one pancake over, checked and then flipped the second one over without answering the question.

Vlad was licking his lips, clutching his weed in arms that rocked the plant gently while his eyes were locked onto the pancakes, hypnotized by the sizzling sound of the batter on the hot pan. He shifted on his feet, an anxious dance much like the begging and impatient wagging of a dog's tail when the animal is keen on mooching off of his master's plate. He swallowed, wracking his brain for a good way to persuade the larger teen to part with at least half a pancake.

Fortunately for the delinquent, Anderson, who was uncomfortable with the hungry look in Vlad's eyes and the pot and cat that were too out of place for his liking, spoke up first, telling Vlad to step back and put his stuff somewhere so that he could finish cooking breakfast. "I'll make you two, there's enough batter, but…you have to promise not to do anything freakish today." I know that'll be hard for you.

Nodding vigorously and scurrying away to do what Anderson had asked, Vlad left with a forming smile and came back with a half concealed grin, putting himself next to Anderson's shoulder again in order to watch the pancakes.

"-Room. Give me room to move my arm."

An elbow nudged Vlad, showing the teen how he was obstructing the cooking process. As soon as Vlad was out of the way, Anderson turned over one of the pancakes and then waited for the next one to be ready to turn. He flipped that one and then it was quiet in the kitchen.

Vlad was absorbed in the cooking, obsessed with every movement Anderson made and every sound the batter or finished pancake gave off, from pan to plate. He licked his lips several times over the course of few minutes or so before he finally caved, forcing his stare onto the teen beside him.

"Hey. -Hey Anderson?"

Narrowed green eyes glanced to the side, Anderson not even bothering to turn his face in Vlad's direction. "What?"

Vlad looked about, rubbing his hands and licking his lips. He put his hands into the pockets of his jacket and then stared at the ground as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Can I make one?" He muttered.

Sizzling from the pan continued and Anderson twisted his neck to see Vlad better. "What?" He repeated, but this time with more confusion.

Vlad's eyes went up to the higher face and then darted away, roaming widely before they flicked to the pancakes. A pale hand gestured to them hesitantly and a shoulder shrugged. "You know…them. Can I make one of 'em?" His hands were back in his pockets and Vlad was rocking on his heels again, but now his eyes were on Anderson, waiting for an answer as he chewed his lip.

Anderson gazed fixedly on the gaunt features, unused to seeing them so close and in relatively good lighting; every light in the kitchen had been turned on to chase away the morning gloom. Anderson's mouth frowned and then the teen moved his focus to the pancakes, noting how close they were to being done. He took one of them off the pan and laid it neatly on the curved golden pillar that rose from a plate waiting on the countertop. The pancake he was looking at wasn't finished, so idle green eyes went to the mixing bowl that contained the remaining batter. There was enough for two minature pancakes, he estimated, and then looked at Vlad again, analyzing the wasted face that had little source of youth in it. Green settled on the pancake in the pan. It was ready to be taken out.

"Fine. Do you want to make a big pancake, or two little ones?" The teen finished transferring the pancake to the plate and he turned to Vlad, catching the delinquent's enthusiasm and the excitement that came with the positive answer.

Vlad nodded, forgetting what Anderson had asked and he dodged the other teen to look at the remaining batter in the bowl. Anderson followed his movements with a hardening frown. "Hey. I asked you a question." His voice, although flat, somehow developed the effectiveness of a more intimidating tone, and Anderson fixed Vlad with a distant look that quieted the pale boy's voice and stole some of the excitement from his worn features.

"…Erm…" White fingers tapped at the counter nervously, loathe to lose this chance just because of his habitual lapses into inattentiveness. "… _Yes_." He guessed with an answer, trying to seem confident in his reply when he met the green gaze, having to swallow and bite the side of his mouth when Anderson's chilling demeanor suggested that he had given the wrong answer. The pale fingers continued to tap at the counter top, playing a desperate pitter-pat rhythm.

Anderson let Vlad suffer his glare a moment longer before he gave a purposefully, and offensively, slow repeat of his question. "Do..you..want..to..make..two…small pancakes…or…only…one?"

Red flew away with thought, climbing over the cupboards hovering above the counter to his right with the energy and wantonness of some kind of wild monkey, before nodding at the jock. "Sure. -Okay. Two- Two is good."

Anderson moved closer to the mixing bowl, setting his spatula on the edge of the plate that was occupied by the pancakes he had made, Vlad moving farther down the counter to give him space. A finger pointed to the measuring cup sitting in the batter, like a stationary boat floating on a pond of goop. "Scoop up half the batter in there and then you'll have enough left over for another pancake. You can do that without making a mess, right?"

Blinking before he nodded, Vlad chewed his lip again, frowning down at the opposing task. "M-hm." He nodded sharply to himself, reaching to grab the measuring cup, but his arm jerked, held back by an impatient huff from Anderson when a tan fist caught Vlad's jacket.

"Roll up your sleeves. You were about to drag them through the batter… And I even asked you if you could do this without making a total mess of it." He let go of the sleeve and Vlad stiffly consented to roll it up, doing so slowly, awkward with the oversized sleeve. Anderson maintained a constant frown, his eyes always creased with the distaste he had for everything Vlad did and for everything Vlad was. "Come on…are you mentally deficient or…or what?" Vlad glared back at the jock, his eyebrows narrowed and crinkled above his nose when he quickened his pace with the second sleeve. When he was done the gangster tried not to look at Anderson, moving his eyes and hands directly to the mixing bowl and its contents while Anderson stepped back to observe. With the measuring cup filled halfway, red checked on the space he had been provided to stand in front of the stove. Now Anderson gave more instructions. "Put your hand under the cup before it drips everywhere. -And do it quicker. C'mon. You're taking forever and- _Are you stupid_?" Anderson growled from behind, hissing at Vlad when the delinquent put his hand under the measuring cup, _holding _it directly in his palm. The older teen looked away, swinging his hands in agitation and disbelief until they wound up tucked behind his head as he scoffed up at the ceiling. "Oh my god…you're so fucking stupid it's unbelievable."

Vlad, who had deposited his cup of batter with a scowl into the pan, snapped back at Anderson when he slammed the measuring cup back in the bowl and hurried off to the sink to rinse his hands. "It's not like I've done this before. You don't have to be such an ass so early in the fuckin' morning." He scrubbed his hands off on a conveniently placed dish towel, grumbling down at the unsympathetic cloth. Anderson was watching him when he turned and walked back to the pan, two muscled arms still tucked behind his head. Vlad fit in the space between Anderson and the counter and he snatched the spatula from the plate. "Don't bitch at me, 'kay? Jus' tell me what to do. I have no freaking idea what I'm doing and you're not fuckin' helping me, like at all."

The superior expression had set in the mold of Anderson's face and he gazed down at the black hair that slipped from Vlad's shoulder to swing dangerously close to the flames, hitting the pan before Vlad hurriedly tucked it behind his ear. Vlad went on to stuff his hair into his hood and then pull the hoody over his head while Anderson watched in silence.

"The pancake is burnt." A calm voice informed Vlad.

The skinny gangster jolted, the end of the spatula diving under the pancake, scraping it from the pan with a few painfully rough jabs. He turned it over and then cursed at the dark, charred, shapeless creation. "Why didn't you fuckin' tell me? Anderson! I told you that I didn't fucking know what I was doin' and then- and then you just let me burn it? It's- Fuck! Anderson! -Wasted-! Damn it! -Ruined my pancake! You're such an asshole!"

"You're a moron."

"Fuck you, pancake ruin-er...bitch who ruins people's freaken pancakes…"

With the texture of a cracker, Vlad's first pancake was deposited on the rim of the plate, clattering down beside the stack of perfect pancakes Anderson had made. Vlad scowled at the contrast while Anderson smirked, his arms folded over his chest while he waited for round two.

Vlad reached for the batter.

"You want my advice now?"

This possible offer caused Vlad's hand to retract, falling to his side when his attention turned to the blonde. A twitching, aggravated mouth frowned. "Yeah."

Anderson jutted his chin, using it to indicate a yellow spray can on the counter. "Put some of that on the pan so it doesn't stick. You were okay last time, but this time it needs it."

Vlad followed the blonde's instructions, learning from some of the mistakes he had made last time and improving his performance this round. Anderson, who remembered that he had other things to do, called out the next steps from farther down the counter, inserting a plate of bacon into the microwave while Vlad worked at the stove.

"Your pancake is smaller, so it'll cook a lot faster. Try not to spread the batter, that will make it thin and it'll burn or cook really fast. And it won't taste good either. -You'll end up with the crap you got last time. You want a fat, fluffy - though small - pancake. Gold, but not oozing batter anywhere. Look at the edges to see if it's still bubbling and lift the pancake up a little with the spatula to check underneath to know if it's time to flip it. Since it's small, it'll be easier to flip - but there's no need to do it too fast and run the risk of breaking it or smearing the batter on the pan by being careless. …How are you managing over there? Catch it on fire yet?"

"_No_. It looks totally awesome. Not fucking on fire… It…it looks good, like gold." Vlad paused, his spatula gently lifting and moving the pancake so that his eyes could observe its faults or lack of faults. He gazed at it for a moment, his expression slack, his irritation gone. "I think it's done."

The bacon was still revolving around inside the microwave and Anderson was cleaning up a few drips of batter on the counter with the dishtowel from the sink. He didn't look up when he answered. "Alright. Then take it out."

Vlad transferred his pancake with painstakingly slow movements to the plate, placing it down on a separate part of the rim to avoid tainting its perfection by putting it on the burnt pancake he had made earlier. When he was done, he stood watching the pancakes, looking at his own and glancing at Anderson's before flicking his eyes back to his own again to avoid finding the superior quality emanating from Anderson's golden pillar. The delinquent was proud of his pancake. His self satisfaction warmed his chest and made his lips smile, peace falling like a thin veil over his features. The veil quickly caught an ember and burned away when a gruff arm reached in front of Vlad, actually knocking him back a bit when it sought to turn off the stove which had, until then, continued to bathe the bottom of the pan with a ring of blue flames.

Anderson was frowning at Vlad, but he drew away to see to the microwave when it beeped, demanding his attention. The kitchen filled with the aroma of bacon that overwhelmed the smell of pancakes, and the jock ordered Vlad to carry the plate of pancakes into the dining room before he followed the delinquent with the bacon, a butter dish, and a container of syrup cradled in his arm uncomfortably.

Once in the dining room, he had to pause, stuck in this uncomfortable position while he was forced to stare dumbly at the arrangement of 'guests' already waiting for them. The weed was sitting on one placemat and the cat was frowning at him with sad brown eyes from another mat. Without a comment, but only a shake of his head and a mumbled sentence that had no comprehendible words in it, Anderson unloaded and told Vlad to come with him to the kitchen to collect plates, silverware, glasses, a milk jug, and napkins to bring back to the table.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

For once, Anderson had no activities planned to fill the idle hours of his day. So, to be productive, he chose to knock off some written homework and take notes on the chapter his next history test would be based on. He wouldn't put too many hours into studying this early in the break, aware of the probability of forgetting most of it and needing to study closer to the test dates. Vlad chose to sleep during this time, putting all of his efforts into digesting his breakfast.

The hour for lunch arrived, so the blonde called it a day, snapping his books closed and stacking them neatly on the edge of his desk with a soft pat. He went down to the kitchen to give his brain a new burst of energy with a pastrami, horseradish cheese, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, munching down on his artful creation with a complacent expression hidden behind a book a friend had recommended. It was bland, made blander by the rich flavor filling his mouth and by the time the teen had finished his first half of the sandwich, he had exchanged the book for the front page of the previous day's newspaper to catch up on the news. Teenage love stories bored him to no end.

It was drizzling outside, and the clouds were a blur of pale baby blue, a touch of brighter blue at the edge of the clouds closer to the horizon, that made one expect a clear sky to emerge as soon as the wind swept through. Progressively more intimidating values of whites to smudged grays continued up from the blue hues to the point above the heads stationed below. The taller trees swayed with their slim bodies while the thicker, more generously branched trees waved in places but did not have enough flamboyance to move like the others…not until a rhythm picked up that rocked each branch in a shimmering display that mesmerized the wind, holding it still in a trance so that it accidentally, and regrettably, allowed the tree to stop moving. As an eager partner, the wind picked up once more, but sputtered and found itself to be too weak to engage the tree to move again. The drizzling stopped and the flecks of rain dried on the windows while water gushed from a sink-head as Anderson rinsed off his dishes to prepare them for the dishwasher that shut with a click and a beep. The teen then strolled upstairs without anything to do in the peacefully dreary weather, and decided to dedicate his time to some productive tasks once more. It didn't matter if he would have to study it all again later, his body begged to give in to his nagging conscious that told him not to waste his time, a waste that would always result in nothing but perhaps regret and guilt later on.

So he opened his books and propped up his binder to take notes on the lined leaflets that were waiting for him to give them a discerning significance. Unfortunately, and the paper cried out in anguish when this happened, Vlad chose to saunter into the room, his meal fully digested and his hair fully tangled with sleep and his usual lack of grooming. Anderson's broad shoulders, too powerful to cringe with vulnerability, twitched with a shiver of displeasure and then stiffened as Vlad came closer. Red peeked over the rigidness to see the textbooks lying open on the wood desk.

A frown hinged the center of the delinquent's lips, bending them in half. "Ew…is this all you do all day long? Fuck, that's boring. …But then again, _that's _what you do at _night_-"

"Get out." The blonde cut back, his hands holding the sides of his binder firmly as he nailed Vlad with a venomous glower that tainted the rest of his face. The gangster stared at it, knitting his brow with confusion when he couldn't come up with a source for Anderson's hostility. Anderson scowled down at his blank paper and then tossed the pen that was sitting on the open binder in his lap, letting it bounce and roll crookedly on his desk. "I made you breakfast and all you can give me in return is-" A new glare hit Vlad again, with the green eyes almost shaking with aggravation as Anderson's jerking facial muscles placed a spasm in his jaw. "-annoyance? God damn it! I'm working and you don't have the common sense to leave me alone?" Anderson cursed, his glare slicing into everything on his desk while Vlad retreated a couple steps, the gangster tossing his hair to the side by throwing back his head and snapping his tongue. Vlad gnawed on his lip and moved his shoulder nervously.

"Jesus freaken Christ, Anderson. It yer time of the month of what? Fuckin' spazzing on me."

"**Get Out**." A rumbling voice demanded, the jock too angry to look at Vlad. The pale features that had an unflattering shading in the gloomy light, sneered.

"We go from bein' kinda cool with each other, to this." A growl warned Vlad of another outburst, amusing him slightly so that he snorted. "Fine. 'Kay? I take it back, you're dear, charming, and sweet, Anderson. But since you mentioned food already, can I go get some? Ya know, I'm kinda hungry and stuff right now…and was wonderin' what you were up to, so that's the whole reason I came to 'bother' you. Since me bein' here is such a freaken bother and all."

The binding of a book creaked and a hand leafed through the first few pages before cutting the content in half and opening the textbook in the middle, a few pages off from where Anderson wanted to be. "Get out. I asked you once already."

Vlad's brow wrinkled and one eye narrowed oddly. "Really. Yer all scary soundin' voice is called 'asking'? -Okay, okay, calm down scary Anderson, I got the message. But…could I go get something to eat or not? You didn't really say and I don't want to piss you off by-"

"Just get something, eat it in the kitchen, and then go back to your room. Don't snoop around my house. …I don't even know if my mom's home, but it would be hell if she found you here, alright?"

Also reluctant to have this happen, Vlad winced and glanced conscientiously over his shoulder to make sure no one was spying on them from the doorway. "Yeesh." The boy shrugged and tugged on his jacket to gather more of it towards his front, as if chilled. "Okay, now you've convinced me that it's a good idea for you to come with me, because I don't want to run into some fuckin' cop-lady right now, Anderson. If I don't got you there to explain this stuff and whatever…I mean, I could be so screwed and stuff until you get there."

Only an irritated huff replied, but the jock stood up and pushed back his chair to escort Vlad to the kitchen, having lost the motivation to study for the moment. Already excited about the chance of another meal, Vlad let Anderson lead the way, following him closely with springy steps.

However, having already eaten once today and not pressured by any measure of immense hunger, the red gaze snagged on a familiar windowed door and stopped to stare through it, Anderson doing the same when he noticed Vlad wasn't following him.

"Do you want something to eat or do you just want to look at the rain?" With frustration evident in the blonde's tone, Vlad was strangely unaffected when he walked towards the door, reaching for it with a quirky smile.

"I wanna go check out the rain and the plants and stuff. It's not actually raining right now though." He squinted through the glass to gain this fact before opening the door and stepping outside.

Anderson threw his hands up in the air and then let them fall, tucking one thumb into a pant's pocket while glancing around in disbelief, rocking on his feet for a while until his patience gave way. The flare that had inspired his morning act of revenge ignited again, seeming to paint a halo around the door knob he saw. It took five steps, but Anderson reached it and he shut, locked, and turned away from the door to return to his room where he could plop down into his cozy desk chair and begin to study again.

Down below, knocking and rattling from the door could not reach Anderson as an anxious Vlad felt an unpleasant drizzle dust his hair with tiny specks of water.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"The only time we get lightning is when I lose the freak! _Of course _that's the only freaken time we get lighting! _Of course_!" Suffering the battering wind and merciless lashing of stinging rain, the teen turned his face to the warring sky, rain blurring his vision by coating his glasses with yet more water. He swung a clenched fist by his side that was powerless against this situation and then raised his voice with as much strength as was in his grip. "The least you could do is _hit him _so I could know where to go!" He shuddered at the soaked cloth that encased his body, like a wet and cold second skin, alien and contagious as it made his natural flesh the same way. He ducked his head to shield his glasses.

Even when frustration decided that the glasses were entirely useless, the teen kept them on, preferring to keep from safe from the damage that was possible if they were pinned to his sweatshirt. They could fall and get lost in the darkness and mud...so he tramped on with blurry vision, playing with the glasses by pushing them farther down his nose to squint over them. He decided to keep the glasses this way, outlining the perimeter of his house with his footprints for what felt like the second or third time, but he was fairly sure that it was only the first trip. His house was rather large… Anderson scowled and his next step sunk an inch into the mud, taking a layer just as thick with him as he moved on.

At this hour, his mom couldn't be home.

"Freak! -_Freeeak_! Where are you! Hey!" Green darted through murky shapes that thought they were trees. "Hey! -_Heeeey_! Are you out here? Freak! FREAK! HELLO! I'm here to bring you back inside! Heeey! Where the fuck are you! Damn it! I'm going to give up soon if you don't come out!"

At this point Anderson was certain he had rounded his house three times, and his feet were getting heavier as his shoes collected more and more mud from stumbling through the same or new mud patches during his repetitive journey.

"God!" Anderson turned, almost slipping before he steadied his stance, fists tight while the teen scowered the area with his eyes, searching for signs of human life in the darkness, wet and miserable and guiltily imagining if the gangster was in the same condition. It was Anderson's fault. Entirely and indisputably his fault. But why should he care?

Because it had been a stupid mistake and finding a dead body on the property in the morning was not a pleasant thought.

He hated doing stupid things.

"God damn it! What the hell is his name again? ..Damn it!" Hisses and snarls were chewed by blunt teeth, the green eyes still roaming while a mind searched for a name. "Val!" No, that doesn't sound right. Anderson winced at the water that poured over his skin. Val, Victor…? It's something with a 'V', damn it! Shit… Where could he be? The ledge of the roof is better than any tree-

Lighting spiked and thunder cracked, echoing behind it, leaving pitch darkness after a flash of white that tucked Anderson into a protective position where he covered his head with his hands. He righted himself, hurrying closer to his house for protection while scowling.

House. Another house.

The green house.

A light went off in his head, and the jock threw himself in the direction of his backyard, fumbling with a metal clasp to open the wooden gate that would let him pursue his destination. Memory led the boy to the structure he sought, and he banged open the door with a crack of lighting and thunder announcing his abrupt entrance.

Huddled under a table, Vlad started and looked up, sniffing with a running nose he couldn't feel anymore while boney fingers clasped his icy arms, giving a good impression of how thin they were even with the jacket covering them. He calmed into a daze that wore off with Anderson's gasped exclamation of relief at finally completing (most of) his task.

A dripping tan hand was held out to the slightly less wet teen that was then ordered to come back into the house.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"Okay, you're supposed to tear off this part here- Nevermind, I'll just do it. …Here."

Bundled up in a blanket and sitting with his bare feet perched on a couch Anderson threatened to kill him for if he got it dirty, Vlad accepted the food. Anderson had made Vlad and himself a Lean Pocket each, having found the frozen box in the freezer. There were four boxes, so he figured no one would care if he took two Lean Pockets, since there were more than one in each box. He'd never had a Lean Pocket before, but the garlic crust smelled inviting, so the teen sat down on the couch before the active television screen to chow down on the warm meal.

Anderson had changed, thrown his clothes along with Vlad's into the washing machine, set on heavy duty, and had given the delinquent a robe to cover himself with, since everything else was too wet to wear.

Vlad nibbled at his food, examined it, and then fiddled with the cardboard sleeve that was made specially for the Lean Pocket. It was so warm... "Thanks… It's pretty good…"

"Hm." Anderson bit into his meal, tasting the lava-like mozzarella cheese and garlic chicken. Then a sneer snuck into his lips. "And I didn't even work out today. This has 540 Calories, and it's called a LEAN POCKET. What a joke." He took another bite while Vlad swallowed.

"Really?" The Lean Pocket was inspected and turned about curiously with a frown. "They pretend this is diet food?" He shrugged uncaringly and ate some more.

Cleaned lenses reflected the television screen that was dominated by a thirty second commercial for Weight Watchers online.

"Colorado is the thinnest, or fittest, state right now. And they've reached the point where one out of every five people there is overweight or obese. It's fast food that does it. Poverty is on the rise so obesity is on the rise…especially for kids."

"Well." Vlad spoke through a mouthful of cheese and crust. "You gotta eat something, Anderson."

The blonde seemed to ignore him. "They don't get a balanced diet…but hell, it's not too easy to get a balanced diet with the crap they throw in your faces on bulletin boards, the sides of buses, on TV… Our school lunches are awful. The healthy food sells out first and then all you get left with is a questionable bean burrito made with a flour tortilla that tastes like paper when you bite into it, and paste when you chew and swallow."

Vlad was munching again, watching the TV with his blanket covering his head like a hood. "Yer just a picky eater."

"No, I'm actually not. This-" A defiant jock held up his Lean Pocket to show it to the gangster who looked at it lazily. "This-" It quivered in his hand for emphasis. "-is _disgusting_, but I'm still eating it." He moved his attention to the TV and Vlad eventually did the same, taking another bite to warm his frigid cheeks.

"Just be happy for the food, Anderson. Some poor, abused chicken was slaughtered and stuffed into this thing so that we could eat it and not be friggen hungry."

It was quiet and the television program finally returned from its break. Two and a Half Men.

"Anderson, I'm bored. I'm sick of lookin' at pink panties and a jack-ass in bed with them."

"Fine."

The remote changed the channel.

The Big Bang Theory.

"Oohhh. They got robbed. Didn't steal his comic books, but he doesn't care about his laptop and TV? Why the fuck would anyone want stupid comics….oh, but they stole his math stuff? Fuckin' sucks. He's gotta do it all over again. …Heheh. This is actually funny, Anderson. Nerds are funny."

"Good to know." A sigh replied, the Lean Pocket abandoned an a plate in Anderson's lap, too disgusted to continue eating it.

Vlad began to laugh again when one character barricaded himself in his bedroom. "I am the master of my own bladder! AHAHA! I love this, Anderson. It's funny!"

"Could you be quiet so I can actually hear what's going on?" An emerald glare snapped.

Vlad shrugged and snuggled into his blanket to watch, snickering occasionally while he finished his Lean Pocket. Then he chuckled at the man in a commercial.

Anderson noticed. "You're in a good mood."

"…So?"

"Nothing."

"I've got food and I'm warm and there funny stuff on TV, what else do I need?"

The blanket, the house, the electricity, the couch…none of which belong to you... Anderson said nothing, glancing at Vlad but then directing his eyes to the TV to end his opinion on the matter.

* * *

Time seems to have sped up half way through the chapter. This is all one day. The increased pace is meant to show how quickly their time will pass, and any other scenes were not important.

Anderson has not yet realized that he is actually housing Vlad...in a way he is unconsciously keeping Vlad there.

Vlad has basically melted into the interior of the house, becoming a part of it, for the moment.

...if that makes any sense.

...I wrote some of this in July, some in August, and some in September/October and it has been sitting on my computer, so I read through it, edited a bit, and posted it today. Tell me if there are any distracting errors.

Happy Premature Halloween.


	6. Chapter 6

Casey's birthday was on the Thursday before Christmas, but previous plans, priorities, or a mixture of both prevented Anderson from being able to celebrate the occasion with Casey. However, just for Anderson, a most precious privilege, Friday was purposely kept free so that a dinner could be scheduled and shared… But Anderson accidentally mentioned that Vlad was staying at his house…and Casey, curious and eager to find something new about the odd, disgusting, and yet interesting teen, requested that Vlad join in and share the precious privilege meant for Anderson, the birthday dinner…

Casey arrived first with enough time to sit down and smile at the reception woman before Anderson appeared behind the clear glass doors, one of which he opened and walked through. The door began to shut before it was caught by Vlad.

"Casey," Anderson greeted the blonde with an earnest grin, a welcoming hand clapping the shoulder that had risen from the seat, "Happy Birthday."

There was a smile, a thank you, a sprinkling of other friendly comments and questions, a 'How are you?' and a 'Have you been here long?', 'No', '_He _held me up, so-', 'I said I wasn't waiting long, Alex…I wanted you to bring him.'

The initial awkwardness of reunion faded as assimilation progressed, the shared relationship between the two blondes molding into the appropriate social guidelines that presided over their location. No kisses or hugs, but touches on the arm, over-friendly glances, a confidence in their smiles, all of which allowed the simple exchange of questions and answers to appear intimate, but not obviously so. Vlad, meanwhile, seemed to rend all social protocols with his presence, unfit for conformity by nature. He gave no greetings, no smiles. No eye was touched by his. Others were repelled by his posture, hands tucked into the pockets of his tent-like jacket, glaring at the floor with pursed lips and his back to the reception woman who, because of the distance between Vlad and the blondes, could not tell if they were all one party or separate. She assumed what seemed to make the most sense to her, taking up two menus with a smile indenting her cheeks.

"You have the reservation for 'Alex'? Party of two?"

"Three now." A mixture of disdain and regret tinged Anderson's reply, and he had to fidget in order to prevent his shame from settling on any part of his body.

Privately, in his own home, locked away from the eyes of the rest of the world, he had not minded Vlad when the teen was quiet, as he had been for the past few days, almost unnoticeable until lunch or dinner. Now his perception of the teen's company changed, intensifying with a horrible power. Anderson was ashamed to be seen with the delinquent, the lowly scumbag against which his own morals and standards clashed.

Vlad was not respectable company and could only degrade one's image in public.

So the offensive teen was placed in an inconspicuous position around the block-like grill, no eye across from him to accidently spot the boy. A young family was lined up along the longest edge of the counter framing part of the grill. They were dressed respectably with just enough finery to distinguish them from the casual groups such as the enthusiastic collection of girls and boys in the background who laughed and squealed excitedly with the noise of an active grill – fried rice, veggies, and meats sizzling.

When the blondes and the delinquent sat at their grill, it was silent and lifeless. The mother with deep red lips, a maternal ring of pinkish pearls decorating her throat, had her darkened lashes shading her view from the new company, while the father had enough interest to spare a glance. The little boy, dressed up in clothes that produced a doll-like and restrained or disciplined effect, let the blondes distract him from his coloring book while his curious mind investigated the different elements that might identify whether or not Casey was a girl or a boy. The person had long hair, and girls all have long hair while boys have short hair. But then this blonde person was too big to be a girl, being bigger than the boy's own father.

The child's eyes were wide as they stared, blinking occasionally, with a mouth hardened by confusion.

Casey had a name that could be for either a boy or a girl… the child became more frustrated as he listened to the man called 'Alex' speak to 'Casey'. Casey also had big blue eyes that reminded the boy of his mother, but Casey's voice was a male voice. The little boy gave up with a huff and let his frustration scribble itself on the T-Rex in his coloring book.

His frustration was so strong that the tip of the green crayon broke off, tilting the child's hand so that he knocked the row of crayons he had placed on the counter, making the red one on the end roll onto the floor. Anderson, seated at the corner perpendicular to the boy's position, leaned down from his stool and snatched up the crayon. A tan hand put it with the other crayons and the teen smiled at the nervous little boy who mumbled a shy thank you.

The mother, who had noticed the exchange, thanked Anderson and then lightly scolded the boy for bothering other people by dropping his crayon.

"It's no problem, just a little accident." Anderson smiled pleasantly.

"Thank you." The woman said again, noticing Casey next to Anderson for the first time since her attention had been drawn to the new company sharing their grill. The darkened lashes had to blink and the woman adjusted the pearls about her neck before looking at her menu again. The young men were…very good-looking, it reminded her of her younger years in high school and then college…and graduate school…

Vlad was hidden in the shadow cast over him by the brilliance of Casey and Anderson's looks and charisma.

The little boy was drawing the dinosaur's teeth red and his mother asked about the story behind the red teeth. Anderson smiled as his eyes skimmed the list of dishes, amused by the battle the child was recounting from his imagination, a face-off between the T-Rex and a long necked dinosaur, "like Little Foot from The Land Before Time, Mommy."

"You liked the movie Grandma got you?"

"Yeah." The child colored the dinosaur's tongue blue, since a dinosaur's tongue was supposed to be special, and then he sighed in the dramatic way simple children do. "I wish Grandma could be here for Christmas. I wanted her to make cookies for Santa."

"I'll make cookies for Santa, and then I'll make some special ones we'll eat together."

"…But I like _Grandma's_ cookies better. You put icky raisins in the cookies."

"You want chocolate chips?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, okay, don't raise your voice, chocolate chip cookies it is. I guess no one likes my Oatmeal cookies."

"I like your cookies." The dutiful husband assured his wife and she thanked him with a soft laugh.

The waitress appeared by Vlad's shoulder, startling him before she asked if he was ready to order. A pale fingered poked the menu clumsily, missing its target twice. "The- wait, no, th- that. The chicken one that's 13.99."

The woman wrote the order down on her pad and then stepped closer to Casey and Alex, entering the spot-light that allowed the family and the blondes to notice her. Vlad was still in the background, where he was comfortable.

Casey ordered scallops and shrimp. Anderson echoed the order.

"Would you like our beef bouillon soup or the miso soup?"

She never asked me that, Vlad's jaw tightened and he blinked quickly, keeping his arms crossed and resting for the most part in his lap. I hope she gets me the beef one, I dunno what the hell that miso shit has in it. Some Chinese shit or something…lots of rice and tofu, probably. What is tofu even made out of anyway? Is it like some plant or animal thing...?

The family had ordered and the waitress departed to fetch whatever drinks the customers fancied. She returned with water and silverware swaddled in white, cloth napkins. The chef followed her a moment later with a cart laden with the ingredients that would be used in the customers' meals. Dark eyes grazed his audience while he greeted them friendlily, taking special notice of the child while making his tone a bit more to the little boy's liking. All attention was focused on the boy to make him laugh, acknowledging that the child was the one who would take the most pleasure out the 'performance.'

The man flipped his spatulas to make the little boy giggle and forget about the coloring book; then he read out the orders. The grill came to life and received a hasty baptism as the chef squirted cooking oil from a bottle, forming the shape of a generic happy face. A lighter came out, nimbly catching the oil on fire while delighting the child whose features lit up with the momentary flare of heat. Then the cooking commenced in a thoroughly entertaining fashion.

The adults were distracted when their soups arrived in wooden, oriental bowls. A spoon was supplied along with chopsticks that might be used for the salad served in a lid-less box that incidentally fascinated Vlad. When the red eyes weren't gaping at the grill, they were puzzling over the soup bowl or the box of lettuce and tomatoes. The food was a shock to his taste-buds, alien to him, but it wasn't an unpleasant shock. Each bite was a thrilling experience that managed to produce a faint smile on the teen's bloodless lips as time passed and Vlad found that he was enjoying himself, 'alone' but warm and supplied with good food.

Anderson was having a conversation with Casey. Both of the blondes had forgotten the black-haired boy. They talked, but they still participated when the chef asked if someone would like to catch part of a shrimp in their mouth. The little boy missed but his father caught the piece that was tossed to him from the edge of a spatula. Anderson missed one, and then caught the second piece when he was encouraged to try again. Casey caught his piece on the first try.

Vlad, who could only be seen in the chef's peripheral vision (facing the man's shoulder), was overlooked, so he was not even presented with the chance to decline the shrimp game like the mother had.

But once the fish had been cooked and the chicken was done, just after the waitress had handed out rice packed into bowls comparable to the ones the soup had arrived in, the chef started dishing food onto the individual plates provided to each customer. His reaction to seeing Vlad was one a person gives when they believe that they had encountered a ghost, when they were sure that they had been standing next to an ordinary man only to turn and discover that devil was smiling at their elbow. The chef froze, his face paled slightly, and then his mind rejected his superstitious notions – cultivated by Hollywood and the nature of human fantasy - and injected life and logic into his veins and nerves so that he could grimace and continue his work.

Vlad scooped meat and sauce into his rice and ate with a fork while others, with the exception of the little boy who showed a special preference for his spoon, ate with chopsticks. The food was delicious, so it was not long before compliments dominated the next influx of conversation.

But the food could only keep Casey's attention for so long. Eventually his curiosity wandered, blue eyes drawn to the pale teen beside him who was playing with bits of his dinner while eating other bits of it. The young man watched Vlad with a smile that might have seemed attractive to others, but for the one it was meant for, it was an unsettling expression that alarmed the boy when he noticed the staring eyes and humored lips. Motivated by instinct, Vlad stopped eating, a mouth half full of chicken, sauce, and steamed rice, unable to swallow past his sudden upsurge of caution. Red eyes narrowed with nervous suspicion while the white skin roughened with goosebumps, disturbed by the memory of the man seeing him in the shower…

The influence Casey had on Vlad had not quite matured to the point that the feeling he instilled could be labeled as fear, but it was close. …And Casey was only coming closer to striking real fear in the teen as their exposure to one another lengthened.

The smile remained, amused by the grain of rice stuck beneath the curve of Vlad's bottom lip, nearly blending in with the color of his skin. Then the blue irises flashed, moving up to the wary eyes that stared back. The smile twitched and curled. "We haven't been paying attention to you. I almost forgot you were here."

Red narrowed and then flicked to the plate as Vlad's fork pushed a sliver of onion around, prodding it occasionally as if to see if it could feel what he was doing. "I like it better that way. 'Kay? Jus' ignore me…better off that way."

Casey's smile only grew and he blinked though he showed no signs of giving Vlad the isolation the boy had asked for. Vlad's words only seemed to encourage the blonde's interest. Anderson had noticed the attention the gangster was receiving by now and was monitoring his interaction with Casey shrewdly, unaware of the weight a slight frown placed on his lips.

"What if I don't want to ignore you?" The smile asked in a pleasant voice that somehow made Vlad want to curl up in the fetal position and hide. "What if I want to talk to you and get to know you better?"

"Well, then that's too bad." Vlad huffed; a metal fork impaled the slice of onion and soon the vegetable was deposited in the teen's mouth, where all of the teen's senses were focused in an attempt to forget about the man who refused to end his unwelcome surveillance.

It was quiet for only a thin moment, and then the smile spoke again. "We'll start off with this: What is your name?"

The teen had a little trouble swallowing, and for this he tossed a mild glare at the long haired blonde. Casey was beautiful, but not in a way that could permit the man's charisma to affect Vlad. It only caused Vlad to scorn and distrust him further, so he focused his gaze on a chunk of chicken he was planning on eating when he responded. "I'm not tellin' you nothing about me, 'kay? Nothing. You got to ask Anderson if you want to know something, though I can't see why you'd even wanna know anything about me. You know you've got some food to eat and all… Do that."

"It's my birthday and I want to know. I'm just being friendly."

A choked grunt squeezed around a bite of chicken as Vlad swallowed, but this time his eyes didn't part with the plate of food. "I dun want you as a friend. I don't like you."

The smile faltered for a moment, but gradually it began to return as Casey spoke. Anderson's frown had evolved into a deep ridden scowl. "That's not a nice thing to say, especially to someone celebrating their birthday."

"Today ain't your birthday, it was a few days ago, yesterday or something, but _tha'_ was a nice try."

"No." The smile had regained its strength while Anderson's anger continued to cook, not far off from reaching its boiling point or bursting into flames altogether. "But I'm celebrating it today, with you and Alex. I'm hurt that you won't even answer a little question like that. I don't know what to call you."

Grazed by a feeling akin to guilt, though he was unconvinced of the young man's sincerity, Vlad moved his shoulders uncomfortably and was unable to put more food in his mouth or look up from his plate. "Jus' ask Anderson, okay? I don't like giving my name out…"

"Why?"

"Cuz I don't. Period. I dun even like talkin', 'kay?"

"You don't? That's strange."

Vlad bristled at the statement, his eyes growing as the muscles surrounding his right eye went through a spasm. "You see," a brittle voice spoke, unsteady with emotion dominated by irritation, "that's somethin' I hate, I absolutely hate. Don't say sh-," he remembered the little boy and swallowed his curse, quieting by degrees with each word, "don't say stuff like that to me…if you want me to…to answer questions for ya. …Alright?"

"So will you be answering any of my questions?" The smile beamed with dominating radiance.

Vlad hesitated but replied with a 'No.'

"Not even the one I asked about your name? Not even a simple one like that?"

"No."

"Is that too personal for you? Even something so _normal_?"

"Yeah, 'kay? It is." A cross voice snapped back.

Casey appeared to meditate on this, more than likely measuring to what extent Vlad's responses amused him.

"Do you think you're better than me?"

"Wh- _What the hell_?" Vlad, in his generic slouch, sat up as straight as a rod and glowered at Casey, shaking his head and crinkling his brow in disbelief. "No. I just don't wanna answer your stupid question, fa-"

Anderson interceded before the inappropriate word could be released, touching Casey's unattended hand as if it needed protection. "Let's end this conversation. It's all nonsense, and Casey was only joking. You need to learn how to recognize a _joke_." The voice was quiet, straining itself to maintain a casual tone and volume though rage burned in the green eyes that shone in a piercing glare. Vlad shrunk away from the expression, curling up in the way of his sloppy posture, and he turned over forkfuls of food, having lost his appetite.

It was quiet as Anderson counted it as a miracle that the young family had not noticed the unpleasant conversation that had just taken place. Anderson passed a concerned glance to the little boy, but the child was engrossed by his food and didn't seem to have been harmed by Vlad's words.

Good. That was a very good thing. …God I hate that freak! _God_ I hate him!

"So Alex?"

Anderson was torn from his thoughts the instant he heard Casey's voice; his expression softened, his eyes soothed by the flawless features and glossy hair – so very different from Vlad's discolored, unhealthy pallor and thin, unkept mane.

"What is his name?"  
"Oh, uh…" Anderson looked around, floundering in unfamiliar territory as he found he had no answer. "Um…" Stalling by pretending to fix his sleeve as he swallowed and cleared his throat, the teen continued to grope blindly for a helpful memory.

Casey raised a golden eyebrow as a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth in a similar motion. The words came slowly, anticipating and craving the most outrageous answer available. "You don't know?"

Vlad's neck nearly snapped when he shot a hard look at Anderson, squinting unpleasantly as his indignation developed. "You mean… I know _your_ name, and I even know _his_ name, and how in fu- how can you not know my _friggen_ name?" You son-of-a-fucking-_whore_! "You've said it before." When you were bein' a creepy-ass fuck in my closet, tryin' to get in my pants like some damn creepy ass- Fuckin' creeps, the both of you. You two damn fucks deserve one another. Fuck you both.

"Don't use that language." Anderson cut back, referring to the use of the word 'friggen' in a hushed tone while glancing about warily. He glared at Vlad again. "I know it starts with a 'v' and has an 'a' and an 'l' in it, alright? I keep thinking it's 'Val,' but I know that's not right."

"You fu- you little b- You b-" Vlad was reduced to grumbling and clenching his fists in mute frustration when he knew if he tried to speak only profanity would spill out. His scorn buried itself in his rice before he took a bite, allowing it to revive, but he expelled the feeling a second time…though it somehow crept back when Anderson tried to make some lame excuse the delinquent ignored.

Anderson gave up on the excuse, aware of how feeble it sounded. "Okay, I forgot. It doesn't matter anyway. I don't care what your name is. I'll never use it." I'll just call you 'freak' until I can get rid of your damn, boney ass. Damn mental case.

"My name's Vlad. Try to remember that this time." Bastard.

Casey observed as this exchange took place and then ended. He watched the boy called Vlad as pale hands began to make use of a neglected fork. 'V, a, l'…Valerie would be a cute teasing name for him. He's such a cagey…defensive, little freak. Hmmm…yes…he's fun… The smile colored Casey's cheeks as he resumed his meal. Content for the time being, he made no attempt to antagonize Vlad further.

The small boy sitting near Anderson began to draw more blood on his dinosaur before he was distracted by a waitress who asked his mother what type of ice cream her son would want, since dessert came with the 'kid's meal'. "Sherbet." The mother replied with an air of sophistication that should be credited to the name of the ice cream itself, and the boy began to wiggle in his seat with excitement.

Anderson caught the waitress's attention before she left and ordered a green tea flavored ice cream for Casey and then himself to delay the check; anything to make the time he spent with Casey longer. One box would be needed to take Casey's food home…and then another box was fetched when Vlad asked the waitress for one personally. Vlad spent the next five minutes biting his bottom lip and pretending not to notice the warmth the young family received from their closeness and the dessert they shared, or the pleasure Anderson and Casey received from their own relationship and the ice cream they consumed painfully slowly.

Fuck these people. They made him miss his friends…the friends that didn't want him anymore. Fuck, now no one in this whole goddamn world cared a flyin' fuck about him!

Vlad ended these depressing thoughts when he felt that his eyes were beginning to burn and his control over his emotions was splintered by the force of his influx of self-pity and loneliness. Blunt teeth buried themselves in a white lip as the boy condemned himself to anguish in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

Why couldn't the car ride be silent? The atmosphere was fertile for a tall standing silence, a far reaching silence. The interior of the car was dark, the lights from outside buildings - the ground where noise flourished - would glint off of the windows, sometimes sweeping over the occupants.

Despite these contrasting atmospheres, the outside world appeared to be silent, peaceful, while the small space within the car reverberated with sound, rippling the air, buzzing and building where it funneled into the mind. Vlad was hunched, his elbow on his knee while his hand covered his right ear, exposing the left for the sake of not showing his moment of weakness. Emotions had built around his barriers and had risen to the peak of his limits, ready to pour into him as a rushing, drowning, destructive flood.

There was music, but it was music Vlad didn't know. He didn't like any of the songs. None of them were soothing. None of them were familiar and comforting. He hungered for familiarity, grasping for it, dying for the broken fragments of his life. Here in this car, he was unwelcomed. He was constantly rejected.

Now, as the blondes in front of him chatted, even mentioning the 'charity case' in the backseat that was ridiculed and insulted without a thought about the gangster's feelings, Vlad struggled to hold his tongue. His free hand shook with feeling, his head spun with it. His chest ached, his stomach churned, flipped, and twisted. It was anger, anger and so much more. Building, pulsing. He felt that a flood was coming. He was helpless against it, helpless as always. No aid. No allies. No mercy. No, not for one so different, for one so dehumanized from a misfortune carried from birth, brought further from the pedestal of the ideal man, perfection, by what life had developed on the side of this misfortune like an ugly growth. Red eyes shut to the darkness of the floor, the pit before his seat that was unable to catch the outside light from the passing buildings, and a sigh left his chest.

Light flashed across Casey's face, illuminating a smile. A piece of the light touched the emerald eyes beside him. Anderson's mouth was an open grin, a finishing laugh, genuine happiness within him that was rising to the surface of his features. The laugh was carried back to hover above Vlad's head, hanging like smoke flirting with the surface of the roof of the car.

Voices carried too.

"Well, you know some people just have no common sense when it comes to interacting with others in a civilized manner- in a public place, coming close to using filthy language - we know people like that."

"Common sense isn't found in everyone." Casey chuckled at some personal recollections.

The blonde teen let out a laugh as a thought came to him, amused. "You know how people are dyeing their hair rainbow colors while other people get tons of lip and eyebrow piercings, and all sorts of freaky stuff?"

"Yeah, mmhm." Casey's head nodded as he hummed, feeling that Anderson would continue listing examples. He hoped to crop the length. "So? What's your point, Alex?"

"What would you think about me suddenly dying my hair black and tattooing my eyes red or something?" It was the jab of a hot poker.

A violent cringe, like a choking gag, seized the boy hunched in the backseat behind Casey, the left ear that was exposed, picking up on Anderson's voice with far too much clarity. In desperation, pale hands that shivered with the swelling emotion, clamped down on Vlad's ears, trying to defend his already rattled core.

The eyes that had opened with shock and had glimpsed a skewed view of the back of Anderson's shoulder, were shut. Quickly, Vlad threw his hood over his head, and then buried his hands in his hair to protect his ears, bent over, struggling…struggling. Endure! Endure it! You must!

But it shouldn't last long.

They were dropping Casey off. It should only be a few minutes before he's gone, before there's silence.

Hurry up you fucking stupid car! Hurry the hell up! Go faster! Get us there now! Fuck this! …God, this… I hate it. I HATE it!

I wanna go…I wanna leave..I-

The pale hands clamped harder as Vlad's teeth were revealed in a wince.

Please let me go…please let me go…

The thoughts never picked a where or how, existing only on the desire to escape, to find the missing familiarity Vlad needed.

Soon the car parked by the dorms, quieter tonight than the last time the car had stopped there, and Casey leaned over to place a peck on Anderson's cheek, grasping a wrapped gift that had been sitting on his lap. And then the man left the car. Anderson watched as the well-shaped, slender but not feminine, back disappeared through a door, and then he turned to look out his window as he backed up to leave, not seeing the hunched form that clung to the shadows beneath his gaze, trembling slightly with its continued struggle for control.

Then silence branched out and filled the car, and Vlad's turmoil lessened with the aid of this shade of peace.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

In the house, the many empty rooms of a crypt storing the useless, lifeless wealth that could offer no companionship or love made the walls dark and the floor icy with the chill of unavoidable isolation. Anderson went his way, disappearing into his room, and Vlad, filled with his tumultuous sea, the brimming flood, burrowed into the bed he was only borrowing. He was always borrowing. Always borrowing beds and roofs and food. He hadn't had his own room, his own bed, his own home since his parents' deaths. He burrowed to hide, to find something – something like warmth, the warmth, the soft heat that resembled love, the phantom of an embrace – soft, soft like a caring mother.

He didn't care who it was, but he wanted someone – someone who was warm, a warm and accepting person. Someone who would wish to comfort him, even if they made no attempt to, as long as they had the thought or feeling of wanting to help him. Instead of these people that left him so entirely alone, estranged, separated.

Oh God… Oh God… It was painful.

His eyes burned. His nose stung. Eyes, wet, brow furrowing, a whimper that escaped his lips and made him feel all the more ashamed as he buried himself in the warmth and softness of the comforter, hiding, hiding. Seeking help, help from a comfortable place. But he was not shedding tears. It was merely dampness, dampness – the condensation of bottled misery.

Oh God…

Thin shoulders, cold as always, shivered and the boy curled up tighter. He held onto the fabric of the comforter, tighter. His teeth bit down, tighter. His brow knit and puckered, his throat constricted, his heart, his chest – tighter.

Vlad whined a name, and then was quiet.

Anderson was on his laptop in his room, just as silent.

The house contained no sound.

And then the garage door opened… But the boys did not hear it when it opened, when the car's motor hummed and then shut off, when the garage closed, or when the trunk shut and the door to the hall creaked closed. Footsteps, heavy with a side bag slung over a shoulder, large in size, unbalancing, so that the steps were harder on one leg than the other – a man walked down his hallway and passed his kitchen. He moved on to his room and stayed there for a time, but eventually he emerged and soon those footsteps, relieved of their burden and made lighter, climbed the stairs.

They stopped. The polished sheen on the black shoes slipped over the leather, light shifting as the shoes turned in a new direction, standing still for a moment, sensing that the usual emptiness of the room had been disturbed. No, not so much disturbed, but filled. The door to the bathroom near the spare bedroom was open, and on the usually untouched carpet, feet had trodden on the threads.

The man's son never entered that room, never used that bathroom – he did not know much about Alex's habits, but he knew that unused rooms remained unused. His son had no need to branch out and take up more space. It was against the human habit of establishing a frequented territory, a certain bathroom, a certain room and a bed that were called their own because they used it, despite whether or not they owned it.

The footsteps appeared again, hushed by the threads, pressing down where other feet had left faint moldings of their shoes. Without further thought, but assuming the role of a lawful owner who had the right to investigate how his property was being used, he opened the door, looked to the bed and saw, immediately, the mound created by the bunched comforter. The altered appearance of the bed suggested that it had been used. The shoes cast off on the floor beside the bed stated that it was currently in use.

And the mound was much too small to belong to his son.

Mr. Anderson was not alarmed, he felt nothing at all. Only the compulsion to discover what it was, what had been going on, and what was going on. He did not frankly care who his son brought into the house, the boys… Casey… he was well aware of their frequent visits. He did not care. He ignored it, cut it off from his shallowest measure of attention, just as he tended to cut off his son whose life was simply beside his own, not intertwined, not connected, nowhere was it intimately fused with any feelings of affection. He did not care for a child he had never wanted. He began to care less when the embarrassment of the boy's sexuality had been thrown upon his head, earning the returned scorn from his father, humiliation elsewhere – created for the most part in his own mind with false perceptions.

As he approached the comforter, he expected to find a boy, maybe a girl – someone, a friend who had been invited over to stay the night.

Through the comforter, Vlad picked up on the quiet footsteps and pulled the comforter closer to himself, burrowing – burrowing where he could go no deeper to escape.

"Anderson," the muffled voice, complaining and wholly displeased, paused the man who now knew that the mound was indeed male, "Anderson, just leave me alone… leave me 'lone… I don't want anything to do with you right now."

A foreign hand grasped the comforter. Vlad attempted to maintain possession of it by tugging when the hand pulled. The teen hissed at the aggressiveness. "Go away! Anderson! Why do you have to-!" A groan of frustration as the comforter was pulled away, and then Vlad remained curled, his knees tucked in to his chest, his eyes shut and his face partially nestled into the mattress. He huffed and grumbled like someone who had just been rudely awakened, though it was clear that he had never been asleep. "Yer jus' a bully…Anderson. …And dammit, now I'm cold." Pale feet twitched to echo the complaint. Vlad gave another huff of displeasure and then a left eye, the only one not blocked by the mattress, glared up at the one who had stolen his warmth and dim comfort.

He saw a man, tall, blonde, light skinned, with uncaring emerald eyes that shone with no light of focus, judgmental in a distanced - arrogant way, lidded as if observing something tedious or undeserving. The single red eye was round, staring, gaping in horror as Vlad lay rigid, hardened by shock. Goosebumps were already rising as the stranger continued to stand over him, not dissipating like a hallucination or transient ghost should. The man was solid. He was _**real**_.

Fumbling, without a hint of grace and with an overwhelming amount of panic, Vlad half rolled, half threw himself from the bed, skinning the wall before he hit the ground with a grunt and then scrambled to his feet to flee – green eyes watching. Not in the slightest were they amused by this awkward spectacle.

"_Anderson! ANDERSON!_"

The other door opened-

-and then partially closed as Anderson attempted to shield himself before Vlad dove at him, almost as if to grab the jock, but Vlad settled with squeezing through the door and under Anderson's arm to seek sanctuary in the bedroom, sufficiently hidden while the blonde teen was distracted by the appearance of his father. The man left the spare room and approached his son, stopping before him, looking up a miniscule degree due to the difference in height.

And the quiet returned for a brief visit, giving false hope of a swift reappearance of peace. But peace rarely comes in anything but fractions divided by time.

Mr. Anderson's lips frowned just enough to mark a faint crease under the corner of his mouth. "That's the ugliest one you've brought home yet."

Anderson, alarmed as well as ashamed and embarrassed, coughed to clear his throat and then shrugged his shoulders when they itched with apprehension. "No. No- no, he's not- It's nothing like that _at all._ He's just-" Anderson looked at the floor and, apparently to adjust his footing, fidgeted a bit until he could take a full breath of the comforting gas called oxygen to recover from the surprise. Afterwards he calmly met his father's unaffected gaze. Only seconds had passed during this change. "No. I want nothing to do with him. Just- under the circumstances…I took him here because he was sleeping at the school… And he _begged_ me."

The last detail fed Anderson's superiority which had wavered for a moment, making the detail overly important. The father's brow twitched but showed no further reaction while his response was delayed.

Vlad, uncomfortable - and so, numbed for a minute - wandered around, wobbling with his anxiety held close in his crossed arms, holding himself, bobbing his head, sometimes straining to look at the stranger he now assumed to be Anderson's father and then deciding against it at the last moment. His indecision kept his feet moving, kept him wandering in the room behind the blonde teen.

"You can't bring in homeless people, Alex. You don't know what they have. If they have lice, fleas, other filth, or illnesses that-"

Vlad cut in at this, his chest bloated with sudden indignation that falsely inflated how much he valued himself. "I am _very_ clean and _very_ healthy, you _jackass!_" He spat out each word, expelling the built up outrage in bursts.

Taken aback by the abrupt eruption of feeling, Mr. Anderson didn't make any effort to finish what he had been saying. The man stared at Vlad as Anderson turned to glare at the gangster, the loathing returning to his eyes, burning, scowling - all of it hatred.

"He's stupid too." The cool, older eyes remarked, observing the pale teen who felt that his core had been struck a second time in one night.

"No!" Vlad snapped, snarling with the emotion - swelling, dangerous.

Anderson's scowl quivered as his eyes blazed, and large hands curled into fists, crackling unintentionally. "_Shut up_, **just** Shut. Up. Do yourself a favor for once and _**shut up**_. God! Why can't you do something so simple? Why do I have to ask?" With a heave of a breath, he saw that Vlad had backed off and now stood near the desk in front of the window. _Uneasiness!-_ screamed Vlad's body language, making the Andersons content once they knew they were in control, that Vlad - like a wild animal - had been rightly subdued.

Now three reflections were shown in the panel of glass that acted as Alex Anderson's window: one reflection that was large and standing close to the window for some hope of escape, and two smaller ones that were the more daunting figures. Vlad placed his hand on the desk for no other reason than to feel the wood beneath his fingertips, creating the illusion that some type of shield stood between his weakened body and the two healthy Andersons. The anxiety made him sick as the restrained flood of emotions sloshed, threatening to spill, to allow some of the raw emotion to dribble down into Vlad's fragile form – a form with no ability to control itself.

The rain had returned and the window was crying. Tears rolled down behind the scene the glass reflected, mute while voices filled the room.

The crease beneath Mr. Anderson's mouth had deepened and stretched farther. What Vlad saw was two cold, extracting eyes. They seemed to pull answers from him, stripping him down – baring his wounds. "It's not my responsibility to take care of a ward of the State. Your parents are dead. You aren't my son. And you disrespect me in my own home and expect me to allow you to stay here? Are you a fool? A complete and total fool?"

"N-no." Vlad stammered out with a voice that sounded like a yelp of pain on top of a groan - a groan for the injuries that were being inflicted, strangely coagulating in deeper wounds while scratching at shallower cuts, allowing them to bleed freely.

While Vlad vibrated, trembling with rage and fear, from the last clanging insult and piercing threat, Mr. Anderson paused to assault the boy with his distaste ridden stare. And then, unexpectedly, he looked to his son and asked blankly, "Is he also a homosexual? Or gay, whichever is the politically correct term now."

This caused Anderson to flinch, and his mouth opened with no reply which was held back by the way his father had asked the question. The teeth gritted together briefly and then let the answer loose. "Yes-"

"-_**ANDERSON!**__" _What was meant to be a roar blew out as a howling shriek as Vlad's face contorted, becoming ugly with wrath that could not be properly expelled through a body as incapable of destruction as Vlad's skeletal frame. Heaving ribs hidden under the oversized jacket held back the boy's fury, which wished to puncture what confined it so that it might fly at the blonde jock and strangle him – to hurt him, to almost kill him - but, in all ways, to make him pay. _"YOU- YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH! YOU MOTHERF-ING WHORE! YOU DON'T TELL! YOU DON'T FUCKING TELL NOBODY! YOU STUPID GODDAMN FAG!"_

Mr. Anderson watched, impressed by the pale boy's anger, having seen few other displays of the emotion that competed with Vlad's voice and swinging hands. It was what a span of accumulating stress seemed to be amounting to, though, the flood had yet to come. Vlad only teetered over the brink as his vision blinked, blind with anger.

Anderson's eyes had grown large to hold his powerful, outraged glare, nostrils flaring, a breath held in – growing hot as blood pumped hard in his veins. His head pulsed.

Mr. Anderson spoke to halt the step his son had already made towards Vlad. "Alex, no. …Stop." The command seemed like a bark, but the voice had been even with a reasonable volume. He switched his gaze from his son to Vlad when he saw that his boy would obey him. Amusement, or some thought, finally flittered over the man's expression, giving him an odd smirk that made Vlad snort and prepare another barrage of shrieking obscenities. "Homeless, homosexual, penniless, and stupid." Vlad's eyesight darkened as his head clotted with passion, but Mr. Anderson cleared the boy's vision gradually with his slow and gradual speech. "Tell me why I should feed you, keep you, or in other ways satisfy your needs. And with that…I could consider letting you stay in that room back there-" a hand lifted and vaguely motioned something that suggested a direction, "but at this point, you give me no reason to let you stay. 'Why?' is what I've been asking you kid, again and again. Tell me _why_." His head shook, rejecting anything that implied the effort would be too great.

Vlad's hands still shivered with emotion - his head rung with it - and this made his tone rough and biting. Some parts of his sentences were smooth while the ends were given a barbed tail that would snap back to prick the listeners. Vlad told them what Anderson already knew and what Mr. Anderson did not know, but throughout the speech, behind each responding expression or experienced emotion from Mr. Anderson, thoughts were kindled and they preserved details about Vlad and Mr. Anderson's opinion of the boy bright in the back of his mind, where a separate agenda was shaped. Mr. Anderson was disgusted by Vlad. He despised him, more than he had ever been repelled by the pregnant wife he had been forced to keep or the part of his life that was in some way infected with the disease- the family that had spawned from an unplanned pregnancy and a college girl that should never have continued to exist beyond one night. Yes, the misery the wretched red-eyed creature before him inspired was greater than anything that had ever resulted from the tie that linked Mr. Anderson to his resentful, callous wife who disliked the man as much as he disliked her. Despite these separate thoughts, he paid attention to what Vlad was saying.

"I am part of a band of merry fuckin' guys who I bet you and all the other damn stupid bastards in this goddamn world see as turds. -You're all _shit_, you know it. -And these guys are my friends. But we jus'…jus' got in a bit of a fight. There's trouble between me and them, and them- they ain't too merry or friendly anymore. Alright?- you stupid son-of-a-bitch- I,- goddamn it- I would be able to talk nice if you hadn't gone and said so much fucking shit about me! It's your own fault! And well- And anyway- And, yeah, so, _hell_. They wanna go on an' hunt down another stupid, dirty fag- And yeah, I am a dirty, goddamn freaken faggot like that asshole right there! You got me, bitch, you got me! Secret's wooo-! Outta the bag! And because of all that, they aim to somehow get to me, and then **end** me. Because stupid faggot son-of-a-bitches get thrown down dead in ditches, 'cuz that's how the rhyme and the rule an' law of life works folks. That's how it fucking works! THAT'S HOW, BITCHES! That's _how_! And now are you gonna throw me out?- cuz you might as well shoot me up now and toss out the body. That's all that's gonna happen if I have no place to go. You throw me out-" a white finger, boney and shaking, stabbed at the Andersons, hoping to spear their consciences, "I'm gonna _die_. …I'll die like a rat thrown on the ground and stepped on an' then torn up by a freaken horde of mangy-bastard cats and dogs and shit. And then the rat gets eated- It's gooone. I'm gone." A sick smile curled up the slope of Vlad's cheek as he paused. His voice lowered, almost crooning at points. "But you fuckers would like that, wouldn't you? …Ya would looove to see me get eaten and shat out- You'd all throw a fancy, rich-ass party here in yer rich-ass house with all yer rich-ass friends, all disgusting and fat and greasy wit' all their goddamn fucktard money. …" Vlad's head bent down, eyes narrowing and growing more resentful within their glower. The teen snorted, his mouth a scowl. "You people-" he spat the words again, twisting them with a tone rank with ill feeling, "You people- You make me _sick_." The pale hands quivered, holding onto the stomach of the black jacket, clutching the extra cloth- cloth, warmth, a shelter that traveled with him- given to him by his best friend. The one that had the strongest incentive to kill him.

Anger made time faster for Vlad as his head swirled, so it seemed that the four words were given immediately, but the man had waited a significant amount of time. Mr. Anderson was scowling.

"I don't want you." It was silent as the sentence tolled.

Vlad was silent… because he was empty. His mind was blank. He couldn't consume the enormity of the statement that had only taken a second to be voiced. And then Mr. Anderson went on.

"You can leave. My son will drop you off at whatever crack house you crawled out of, kid. You're crazy, and I don't want you. Talk to whoever you pissed off. Those scumbags are the only ones that will help you. You're nuts, the way you talk- the way you ask me for a favor. I want you _out_ of my house." And he turned, leaving Vlad as a staring shell, and gestured to his son, communicating permission, freedom. "Alex, get your car keys and bring your cell phone. Go."

_Go…_

Vlad said nothing, did nothing. He moved when Anderson touched his shoulder and led him in the direction of leaving the room, of getting the teen's shoes, and then Anderson stood beside him to make sure Vlad continued to walk down the stairs, and then over the tiles, down the hall, through the door, into the garage and eventually the car. Anderson was just reflecting on how quiet the gangster was, the absence of resistance, when he recalled the stuffed cat and the weed. Green eyes took a moment to look at Vlad in the backseat, and found him dejected and gazing blankly into space that happened to be filled with the back of the passenger seat.

Anderson was gone for a few minutes and then returned with the brown cat. He handed it to Vlad but received no response. He jingled the cat, making the beads ring, and red listless eyes shifted to it. When Vlad didn't take it and Anderson had run out of patience, the jock draped the cat over a boney knee and then turned around. The car started. The garage opened. Rain hit and beaded down the windows. The window that reflected Vlad streamed tears.

Thunder pummeled the air in the distance as rain was parted by the windshield wipers, waving back and forth, back and forth- thunder- no lightning. The car continued to drive, heading for the city.

The rain fell harder. The thunder grew louder. The windshield wipers sliced sheets of water. And then thunder cracked and white flame lit the clouds and daggered down to strike some distant ground.

Behind the colossal crack, the walls protecting Vlad's core splintered and then crumbled. And the flood came in, pouring in- pouring, unceasingly welling and running from his eyes- to escape. Anderson noticed after a while and pitied Vlad a little, now that he was getting rid of the freak. His words were meant to be helpful.

"Maybe no one cares anymore? It's been, what… two weeks? And what makes you so sure they're _all_ angry, or that anyone would even notice you? I'll drop you off at some friend's house. You have other friends, right?"

Vlad only sobbed.

Anderson moved his hands over the steering wheel, pressing his thumb into the hardened leather. Vlad was making him uncomfortable. The freak was just overreacting. It had never been his responsibility to take care of Vlad anyway. He was just getting rid- …letting the freak go. The little freak would go off and find out what he should do on his own, like he should. Like he should.

Anderson glanced up at his rearview mirror again and then swallowed and looked at the road, moving his fingers uncomfortably. Vlad was hunched over and it was dark, but the dark, obscure shape coupled with the sniveling, whining sounds were too much. Anderson could deal with them separately, but not together. He couldn't look at Vlad, so instead he watched the rain fall through the beams from his headlights as the yellow divider markers glowed and rose out of the black road as soon as light hit them.

"Where do you want me to take you? I'll take you wherever. Do you have a friend to go too?"

Anderson was forced to fidget in discomfort and switch on the radio for a few minutes, but eventually a croak reached the front of the car and a tan hand turned down the volume on the radio. He asked Vlad to repeat himself.

"Yeah." Sniffling and filled with a sob. Anderson shuddered internally, shaking off a chill by shaking his head, clearing it.

"Who- or I mean, where do you want me to go? I need some directions in order to do anything. We're close to the exit we want. Where do I go from there?"

The crying had faded. Only sniffing, nose-on-sleeve wiping sounds were heard. "Um-" Anderson's eye twitched as he heard Vlad smear more snot into his sleeves. "Um, um ummm." Sniff. Vlad gasped but a shudder that ran up from his spine made another gasp necessary. When he found his voice, he sighed and leaned back. For the first time since he'd entered the car, his head touched the back of his seat. Red drifted to the streaks of water running at an angle from his window, which was his because he was sitting beside it, the only one using it, and the only person partially reflected in it.

Staring into the rain, his breathing came under his control again and he managed to breathe with one nostril and then his mouth. The teen sighed, recognizing how close they were to the exit, how close they were to the city.

"Yeah, um-" His voice cracked, so he cleared it and then swallowed. Anderson waited, watching the road quietly. Vlad wiped at his nose again. "Um, can- can I just tell you where to go when we get off the highway?"

Anderson took a breath, unaware that Vlad had taken a similar breath at the same moment. He moved a stiff shoulder. "Yeah. That's fine, but tell me so that I know before I get to an intersection that I have to turn right or left or whatever, clear? You understand what I mean?"

A black sleeve was wiping at a pale nose so the reply was delayed ford was calmer now that he had been drained. For now, a form of hope had numbed his reason, dulling what told him to be afraid. Thoughts came to him, influenced by what both of the Andersons had told him. So he pondered. "Hey, Anderson." The driver glanced at the rearview mirror to see Vlad watching his lap, but the gangster didn't wait for the blonde to speak. "You think if I really go and just talk to my- a friend….that…that it'd jus' work out? I mean, like I apologize and other stuff. Since- since," he seemed hurried for a moment to expel the explanation jammed in his throat, "Since him and me have been friends for a long, long time. A long time. And…and he's been all…like my closest friend for most of my life, I think. And he's helped me out so many times and all. He gave me food, a place to sleep and stay, and- and- and he even gave me his old clothes and got stuff from other people too. Like- like this is his jacket here." Vlad knew that Anderson couldn't see it, though he had pulled up some of the excess cloth to display it. "The one I'm wearing- and it's my favorite." Vlad's chin fell to his chest, his eyes picking up the details of the plain black jacket, picking out threads he imagined seeing or saw in the light from buildings outside. Where he held it in his hand, a pale thumb rubbed the cloth, small circles, coaxing out memories.

"He was the first guy to ever help me out after my parents died, and all that…" Vlad trailed off when Anderson interrupted his reverie. The pale face looked up.

"Hey, are you keeping track of where we are? I'm driving blind here. Remember, I have no idea where we're going. You need to tell me where to turn."

"Um…" Vlad looked out the window and determined, from a collection of restaurant names, where they were, and he instructed Anderson to turn at "the next-next light, the one after this next one you see up there" and then risked examining his jacket again.

The driver and passenger sat in silence. Anderson broke it for a moment. "If you were close to your friend and you really believe that you guys had a strong friendship, I'm…I'm sure it would work out- that it will work out between you two."

Vlad was slumped in his seat, his mind going quiet. He spotted the brown cat on his knee and decided to stuff it in his pocket for safekeeping. Then, red stared out the streaming glass beside him.

It was not long before the car stopped, pulling up to a sidewalk where red paint marked the curb and kept it free. Vlad sat in the car and stared out the window, spying a specific door. Anderson had twisted around in his seat and was watching Vlad, waiting for the boy to go.

"Well, this is it then. Adios. Everything goes back to normal now. When we go back to school, you'll be with your people, I'll be with mine…you won't talk to me and I won't talk to you- All the good stuff." Yeah. Tan hands patted the steering wheel.

Vlad still did not move. His fingers massaged the end of his jacket as he watched the door. Rain beat down while Anderson frowned and his eyes narrowed as he heard his windshield wipers continue to sweep.

"Do I have to drag you out myself?" There was no response. Anderson decided to take a shot at Vlad's pride. "Well," a sigh seemed to lift up a tremendous, though imaginary, load, "I guess I'll have to drag you out. Damn, but you're a real coward, Freak. And I drove you all the way out here, and now I have to get out, in the rain, get all wet, and personally drag you out of my car. I mean, come on now. Who-"

The door opened, a sound that made Anderson smile. A hand seemingly grabbed at the air, a wave sending Vlad off, a quick 'Bye-Bye' for the teen who entered the rain and then shut the door slowly, hanging onto the handle. Vlad stared at the car, feeling the cold sap his precious warmth at an alarming rate, icy fingers holding onto the door, refusing to release it even after Vlad heard the door lock.

A moment of doubt and panic- A wet palm pounded on the window, the dark mirror showing Vlad's stricken expression, the sudden terror. "Ander-!" Vlad was jerked forward roughly and made to release the handle as the car drove up along the curb, splashing puddles and splitting the stream running down the side of street. It returned to the road with Vlad's troubled stare trailing it, watching two red lights disappear with the car, the lights that disappeared with Anderson. Rain washed over Vlad's face, soaking his clothes that began to cling to his body for warmth. Warmth…

Vlad looked back at the door, noticing details such as the rain that struck the sidewalk and leapt back into the air, falling again and failing to rise. The surrendering water losing its spirit… Warmth came to Vlad's mind in pleasant waves of memories, some of which had been placed in the apartment that rose behind the sidewalk he stood on. This was his friend. His best friend, who cared for him and looked out for him. The friend he…he loved. Yes, it- it could all work out just fine. Just talking to him would make stuff better. It had only been a kiss…it could just be called an accident…a misunderstanding. It was easy. He had been high. He hadn't been thinking clearly. …And there it was…the perfect excuse. It would work out. It would be easy.

But taking a step towards the door was hard. Vlad's hand snuck into his pocket to squeeze and then hold onto the brown cat named Brownie, which was funny because it reminded Vlad of pot brownies- And with these thoughts going through his head, he walked across the sidewalk, up a few steps, and stood before the door, his hand lifting to reach for the doorbell.

When it opened, a deafening thrill blotted out Vlad's mind; his heart, which had already been racing, beat like mad, beating out of his chest, blocking off his throat so it was hard to breathe and impossible to speak. And Vlad greeted the surprised, towering figure with an awkward grin, fear in his eyes, and his left hand squeezing his stuffed cat desperately.

It took a while for the man to process what he was seeing, and then his brow pinched, his mouth became crooked, and he leaned down slightly as if to get a better look at his visitor. His eyes squinted and then returned to their normal size, blinking. "You?" A deep voice asked, amazed and disturbed.

The voice, something familiar- A familiar face! He was so happy and so scared. So scared, so happy, he wanted to hug the man as much as he wanted to run away, dive under a car, and hide. All Vlad could do was make his grin bigger, adding a flare of hope, a touch of happiness in one indented cheek. His eyes glinted with hope, hope that yearned to change into relief.

But then the eyes, dark brown, so familiar…they darkened, pupils constricted, the eyes narrowed…a glare. Vlad's smile fell and he cringed back and away from the expression. His own eyes now widened with only fear and pain.

Those eyes. Those eyes- his eyes. So much hatred! So much hatred, it could kill him!

And then a hand caught the excess cloth of the jacket, a jacket it itself had once placed on its own body, and with a strength that ripped Vlad's feet from the ground and the air from his lungs, the hand tossed him into the hallway to fall beside the sheen of fake tiles that marked the kitchen floor. The door shut with a crack like thunder, and the giant's glare pierced the teen like lightening. The footsteps continued the rolling thunder as sparks shot from the stormy black eyes; Vlad, at first frozen in shock and awe, was gaping from the floor. When another large hand reached down to grab him, the skinny teen finally attempted to escape and crawl away, but by that time it was already too late. As the same strength that had thrown him brought him to his feet, Vlad's lingering strand of hope glistened for an instant.

"Jake."

The giant paused, meeting the red gaze, and then his eyes glanced down to his hand. He noticed the pale fingers holding it, cold and clammy, _holding his hand_. The anger returned in a faint low growl. Vlad's last bit of hope was snapped in half as he was pushed half of the way and then dragged into the living space beyond the kitchen and then crammed down into a corner beside a cage. While Jake glowered from his immense height with hatred and disgust, causing Vlad to forget any plans he had about claiming the kiss was a misunderstanding, little snouts and curious eyes appeared between the bars of the cage. The friendly little rats had come to investigate all the commotion and now they watched, oblivious of the mood, as their owner spoke to the pale one who had so often brought them food and held them and petted them. They liked Vlad, and were now trying to get his attention so that he would play with them.

Jake's fist twisted the black hair he used to pull Vlad's face up so that the wincing, dread filled eyes would look at him. He prepared to speak, but Vlad's voice came first. It was a murmur that quickly became a whisper that caused the man's glare to recoil. "Jake…? … …Jake…? … …Jake…" With a full view of the white face, the fear, the fear of him- Jake forced the head down into the carpet, meaning only to hide it. He couldn't look at it… He couldn't look at the kid's face…Hell Dog's face when the kid was saying his name like that…like he was…was it begging? Was it-? He didn't want to think about it. He tightened his grip on Vlad's hair and didn't stop after the boy yelped and told him it hurt.

"Jake, stop. Jake, stop! Stop!"

No, that wouldn't do either. The rumbling voice shook the teen and Vlad's body cowered into the carpet, panicked whining noises coming from thin lips while the giant of a man spoke. "Don't move. Stay here. Don't say a word, do you understand? -You understand _punk_? -_Do you understand?"_

A whine said yes, which allowed Jake to let go of the matted hair, glare at the pathetic creature on the floor, and then hurry off to another room. Along the way, he realized that something was caught in his fingers. When he inspected the foreign thing, he realized that it was a collection of black strands of hair. Hell Dog's hair…long…black…pulled from his scalp…

With unexplainable fury, Jake threw the hair away from himself, wishing to see it crash into the wall and shatter into countless tiny splinters he would never be able to see again though the strands could only sift down to land on the carpet in his room - the beige threads that did not hide the black strands. No, not in the least bit were they hidden. Damn. The giant stared, glowered, and then grit his teeth. His stride was swift across the room. A violent motion ripped out a drawer, pulling it free from the dresser so that the contents scattered over the floor. Jake snarled at the mess, too angry to do anything but feel yet more anger, to land heavily on his knees and to snatch up a bundle of cloth and tear at it, unwrapping it savagely with a fearsome snarl.

There was frustration in his anger. Much frustration, coming from what had happened, coming from the drawer, from the cloth that wouldn't unwrap fast enough, from what he would have to do to a kid he'd watched grow up over the years, a kid he'd stuck his neck out for countless times, who he'd done favors for, who he'd treated with patience and generosity and-

Goddamn that little bastard! GODDAMN HIM! A homo! All these years, all these years, when he'd given the kid his old clothes…other friends' old clothes… That twisted, disgusting little fag! Damn him. Damn him! Why? Why did it have to be this poor, stupid bastard? _Damn it!_

Jake had folded, sitting on his heels, his hands holding the cloth, his forehead touching the cool metal of his pistol, an old, unused gift from his father… Wincing as he recalled the need to be quick, Jake reluctantly found the bullets. He shoved what was necessary into the gun, kept the safety on, and left the room.

Vlad who had been forced to lie in an uncomfortable and unnatural position on the floor, his body twisted oddly, flinched and moved away from the cage without thinking when a tiny, four-fingered hand pulled at his hair. He stared, face to face with the rat that had just attempted to make his hair into a snack. Little feet and little paws were holding onto the bars, another rat peering up at him from the floor of the cage. His mind empty with fear, incapable of formulating an escape or even sustaining the will to run for the door, Vlad lifted an unsteady finger and gently petted the friendly rodent's tummy. Petting the little rat, petting it, petting it, saying goodbye, gently, without words, without conscious knowledge of what he was doing.

Jake's anger escalated when he returned to find Vlad playing with his rat. He shoved the gun against the boy's head, hurting him, pulling him up, telling him to walk to the door. Jake opened it and then lowered the gun so that it hovered in front of Vlad's spine. He ordered the boy to go to the car. "Don't do anything." The deep growl hunched the teen's shoulders which reacted with fear. "Don't make a sound."

Vlad was led to Jake's car where he waited for it to be unlocked and then failed to resist or struggle when he was shoved over the driver's seat, into the passenger's seat, and then down on the floor beneath the glove compartment. Vlad moved, crushed, afraid and sore. His head hit the glove compartment after Jake got into the car. The giant growled at him and then slammed the car door shut. The gun rested in Jake's lap as the car entered the road.

Still stunned and not taken in completely by what was happening, Vlad shook but did little else. At one time he managed to look at Jake and find his voice. "Where are we going?" Numbness was still affecting his reason.

"Shut up." The low voice snapped from above.

Vlad couldn't stop. His head was light, his mind was floating away, like a balloon, a little red balloon in the sky- where was his string? "W-where're we going, Jake?"

Blunt teeth ground together while hands crushed the lack of life out of the steering wheel, a vice that could not be loosened for a few seconds. Luckily the road was straight here. "I told you to SHUT UP! You don't talk! You don't make a sound! -And you don't fuckin' move around, goddamn it!"

Vlad had hit the back of his head on the glove compartment again. It was obvious to Jake that the setup was sloppy, rushed, unplanned. He should have tied Vlad up and stored him in the trunk. This…this was just stupid on his part. If it had been any other person, someone who actually possessed a working mind, they could have escaped…or done something… Jake felt that everything he was doing was being done too quickly, in a panic. Vlad was skinny, but he still had a hard time fitting into the space Jake had stuffed him into. The man was tempted to invite Vlad to make himself more comfortable by adjusting the seat so that he would have more room on the floor, but that seemed foolish, stupid, dumb, and idiotic. He didn't give a damn about what the fag wanted. He was just a little confused because he was used to seeing Vlad as his little buddy, the little kid that followed him around and hung out with him…who'd been fun to be with sometimes…

Vlad hit his head again when the car dipped and then rose with the uneven road. Jake barked curses at him and Vlad shrunk down, but he couldn't help it when another bump made him hit his head again.

A gun was pointed at the white face as Jake drove with one hand, a snarl on the murderous giant's lips. …It was a nice gun. …It was a shiny gun. …And Vlad had admired it at one point. Now his heart knocked brutally against his ribs at the mere sight of it, all previous feelings discarded. The teen bent his head to avoid having the gun directly in his face as Jake raised his voice again, yelling- yelling some more, all things and words Vlad could not comprehend right now. There was a gun and they were driving somewhere and he didn't know where and Jake was going to kill him. And Jake was going to kill him. And Jake was going to kill him. And-

Vlad imagined a wet forest. The walk. The shot. The hole that would bleed. The hole he would be buried in, forgotten or hated forever. Though he didn't hear the words, the yelling voice added to the teen's stress. Emotions built. They welled and spilled out in tears and new sobs, new shudders, much stronger than those he'd experienced in Anderson's car.

Anderson… He had no thoughts of the jock. He had faded completely from Vlad's mind.

All Vlad thought about was the gun, Jake, where they were going, and where he would be buried.

Jake shouted and threatened to shoot the boy if he didn't shut up, but Vlad continued and Jake knew he couldn't shoot Vlad in his car. Hell, he wasn't sure if he could shoot Vlad at all… A mess. This was all a big _fucking_ mess.

Jake returned the gun to his lap and fished a cellphone from his pants pocket. Vlad continued to cry, hiccupping now, with no idea of where the gun was, barely caring about where it was as he became consumed by the knowledge that at some point in time it would shoot him. It didn't matter if it was now or in an hour. The thought of his inevitable death tortured him. His sobs were not outrageously loud. They consisted of low whimpers, whines, hiccups, shudders, and sniffles. His eyes were shut. It took Vlad a while before he realized the car had stopped on the side of the rode while Jake was making more phone calls. The discussions were lost to the bewildered boy on the floor who hit another level of despair when he mistook the stop to be their final destination.

Here he let out a strangled, "Oh God!" and cried loudly, with a shameful wail that was beaten down by Jake's heavier roar for silence. Whimpers remained on the floor, easing when Vlad was surprised by movement as the car returned to the road.

"Jake- Jake, where're we going? Huh? Wh-where're we going, Jake?"

"Shut up! I told you to shut up!"

"But where? Wh-"

"Shut up! Damn it! Do I have to shoot you to get you to be quiet? Do I? Because I'm prepared to blast your fucking brains out if you don't SHUT UP!" The pistol was in the hand that beat down on the steering wheel.

Whines, weeping, and whimpers. "Jake-"

"For the love of God, shut up! I'll strangle you! I swear to God I'll reach down there and break your freaken neck, Hell Dog- faggot! Oh, you goddamn, disgusting fag!" He ranted to cover up the mistake he had made in calling the boy by his nickname. The man was overwhelmed, stumbling in a realm he had never entered before- flailing in a nature that was not his own. "All this time you've been being a faggot and doing fag things behind my back! You little bastard! You disgusting little bastard!" The ranting made less and less sense, but it didn't matter. It still broke Vlad, words thrashing him again and again until he began to cry for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Shut up! Sorry means shit! Shit, shit, _shit!_ Shut up!"

They had stopped at a light. The pistol was in his lap. Jake managed to land a blow on top of Vlad's skull with the bottom of his fist. Vlad's vision darkened at the edges and squirming sparks speckled the rim - while he had become silent. The crying returned only once more, and was again silenced by a heavy fist to the head.

In the darkness, an unkept building came into view at the end of a private, gravel road that had sent Vlad's bruised head into the glove compartment more times than he could count…if he could remember how to count by the time the car stopped. The boy didn't even notice when Jake got out of the car and disappeared for a minute or two before returning. He didn't notice the other voices that reached him when the passenger door was wrenched open and he was pulled out to land roughly on the unsympathetic rocks that dug into and bruised his knees and whatever they touched. Rain stabbed at him from an angle. Thin, daggered spikes sharpened by the wind, instead of fat droplets.

Then…he saw them…_all of them_…the bodies…_**them**_. …And his fear grew to immeasurable proportions.

It was hysteria.

He screamed and begged as he was dragged into the warehouse, arching his back, writhing, shrieking - his pleading mixing with various laughs when they were inside, the emptiness providing a clamoring, building echo. Jake had passed him on to someone else. Someone kicked him. Someone joined in to drag him by his hair, another by his arm. Vlad was struggling. No thoughts. Instinct. Struggle. Scream. Bite. Kick. He was forced into a chair and tied down temporarily as the collection of faces Vlad found horrifyingly familiar, grouped together to get a good view of him.

One man stepped forward. A cane…or a bar…_hard wood_... Vlad's eyes stared, wide, unblinking- his lips parted, panting- his brow wrinkled- his eyes red, already a little puffy from tears- the bones in his shoulders shaking with horror as the large black shape became a familiar figure whose muscled arms held the bar of wood back -and then swung it forward faster than Vlad's eyes could track. It was as if the wood disappeared for an instant.

But there was no need to track it. Pain told Vlad everything that had happened after the blunt power of the blow slammed into him, rolling his head back, flinging his mind summersaulting miles away before the pain sucked it back into his head. That pain and the immediate flow of torrential blood that stained what it passed as it surged from his wounds, told him that the wood had landed across his teeth. He sagged forward, a gurgle in the back of his throat, gaging and choking on some of his own blood, red eyes, dripping tears. He stared at his lap where blood dropped from his mouth, where his tongue pushed shards that fell through vacant, bleeding spaces. He saw teeth, like white bits of bone, leave as the debris of ruin carried by the blood river that slipped off his lips or pearled on his chin. The blood was hot. The warmth scared him- he was losing his internal heat, the life kept inside his body. The flow slowed, and then crimson droplets fell steadily - dripping, splattering, the black jacket drinking the red and then allowing it to make a small pool - and a great moan of guttural misery and nauseating despair heaved in Vlad's rattling chest and churning innards, whipping and pitching the fragments of his heart beaten and broken down by the backlash of severed ties that had once connected him to these people, these people who had acted as his connection to the world.

Without looking up, while hearing laughs and praise for the gruesome damage, chains rattling in the background, his thoughts turned from his own wretchedness to the man who had just finalized the boy's desolation, his isolation on this Earth.

Jake's dad had never liked him. Vlad had always known that, since the first time he'd met the man.

It was kind of like how he'd always known Jake was special.

His thoughts moved back sluggishly, hearing chains as his head spun, unable to lift it for the pain. The pain. The pain. The agonizing pain. Throbbing, throbbing, sharp, biting, PAIN, IT WAS DESTROYING HIM! OHHH-! He screamed.

God help me.

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*~*~::..+..::~*~*

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Part two of this 14,564 word chapter will be posted tomorrow...unless I decide to add more to it.


	8. Chapter 8

So that it's not misunderstood, characters will speak differently in order to seem tougher or to fit into the group. Vlad's speech and vocabulary changes with how comfortable/confident his is/ his state of mind (he doesn't have a strong body so he attempts to make himself more intimidating by using foul language) - and this is also the case for other characters here. A clear example would be Jake (who does it to help seem threatening or to fit in with a particular group of people - but he is not really pressured to do this, he speaks this way because he chooses to, as do some or most of the others (I don't develop every little character - I don't usually give them names either) - it's part of the thrill/experience/nature of the 'group' he has joined).

And now for anyone who has not read Empty Room With A Song, Jake's character is established in chapter 6 or so... In this story his character is similar, but I can't say it's exactly the same. All other names that are shared between the stories - the characters do not resemble one another at all, and they are not supposed to.

The other Vlad had a stable environment (mostly). Anderson had a loving family. The...gang...or crime organization barely resembles a gang in Empty Room With A Song, and that was done on purpose.

- Well, here's the second half of the chapter. I hope you all have a nice day.

P.S. - if you feel like it you can compare the situation involving Vlad and Anderson to the situation involving Vlad and Jake (in this chapter) - it might be a little interesting.

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*~*~::..+..::~*~*

…He was young…

It had been two weeks since his liberation from the hell that had defiled his body and shaken the core of his soul - all that he had once believed in. His joy had been short lived as the cold nights and his double edged hunger drove him to stalk the streets in search of what he craved. Having witnessed a hushed exchange between two men, rimmed eyes, dim and nearly empty, suddenly sparked with a dazzle of action, hope, joy, and motivation. He sought the package that he had seen transfer hands, approaching the man who seemed to have the source of the 'magic powder'.

A young Vlad stared at the man, inching closer with the same bright and enlarged eyes that were now irritating the drug dealer who easily identified the child's position. The man scowled and cursed at the boy, but still the child approached, a filthy ghost-like being in the dark, constructed in a setting that whispered superstitions into the drug dealer's ear - raising goosebumps over his flesh. A chill and a shiver.

His fear approached panic when Vlad reached the sidewalk he stood on, and the boy took another soundless step nearer. "GET THE FUCK BACK!" The demand roared with the deep voice's natural authority, a hand lashing out to frighten the specter away as if it was a crow or another one of Death's stalkers.

The broken sealing, the punctured silence that bled out the secrecy it had covered, stopped the child with its abrupt cascading force. Vlad stood still, staring up at the man with unchanging eyes that failed to blink in an otherworldly stare that continued to disturb the one it watched. But then, he too broke the casing of silence, shedding off some of the supernatural aura he had so far carried in the drug dealer's mind.

"Can I have some too? I want some. I want some of the magic you gave him."

Eeriness returned again after the childish voice spoke, originating from the mention of magic. The drug dealer shifted back uncomfortably on his heels and adjusted the thick jacket he wore with a few rough movements, watching Vlad cautiously as he swallowed and growled. "What the hell you mean, magic? I ain't got no fuckin' magic, you little freak. You got some money or you even know what you're doing right now, or what? Kid, if you're already fuckin' high, go the hell away and enjoy it however you like your shit. But get out of here. You freak me out enough and I'm gonna shoot you, you hear that? I am going to shoot your ass if you don't get out of here right now. …C'mon, do you hear me? I ain't telling you to go again, freak. You get the fuck outta my face or I am gonna shoot you! Dead! You know what I'm tellin' ya?"

The gun was out, its metallic body capable of reflecting some of the low rays of moonlight streaming between the clouds overhead. But the red-eyed child continued to stare at the man, as if a bullet was unable to wound his unnatural form.

"Shit!"

The man backed up when Vlad showed no change, pulling on the gun so that it would be ready to fire. He waved it at the boy, hoping to scare him off. "Shit! I told you to leave! Freak, I am telling you to get the hell outta my business! Get on home before I shoot you, you stupid son-of-a-!"

"Hey!"

The man holding the gun jumped and jerked towards the large figure that had walked up to him and was currently swinging its head from the gun to the kid it threatened to hurt. Vlad was still staring at the drug dealer, oblivious of the intrusive presence while it cussed and demanded to know what the man was thinking. "What the hell are you gonna do? Shoot some kid? Here? There isn't any street here where you can get off shooting kids and not have someone shooting you back. Why the hell you got to threaten this kid like that, huh?" The intruder grabbed the drug dealer's jacket now that the gun had moved away, hanging where his wrist had fallen limply to his side. "You sellin' drugs here? Who-"

Then, in that moment, the clouds, the nomads of the sky, decided to part in front of the moon to cast enough light on the drug dealer's face to allow a startled hand that had once been aggressive, to release the jacket with another curse and an apology. "Hey man, I didn't recognize you. You're not the type of guy who'd shoot somebody, let alone a kid. You've never shot anybody. C'mon, what are you doing? You were about to shoot-"

The man shook his head, at the same time shaking the gun when he used it to point at Vlad and the tireless red stare. "Jake, fuckin' look at that. Look at that!" The gun jabbed at Vlad as the grown man's voice cracked. "Tell me what the fuck that is! That ain't no freaken kid. Na-uh. Fuckin' look at that freaken- those fucking staring eyes, man! Look at that! He don't even blink, for Christ's sake!"

Jake looked at the small figure he had noticed and identified as a child from a glance, but now that he saw the boy's face, the filth, the blood-shot crimson eyes, his whole body cringed inwardly, repulsed and alarmed by the sight. He stared at the eyes that did not look at him, licking his lips nervously as he analyzed the smaller being. With his heartbeat throbbing in his chest, as if confronting an occasion where an act of bravery was needed, Jake stepped towards the pale child and hesitantly reached out to quickly touch the smaller shoulder, in his hastiness using an excessive amount of force that pushed the boy off his balance. The force caused the red eyes to finally break contact with the armed drug dealer when the boy's head lolled forward as his body moved back. Vlad blinked at the concrete sidewalk, swaying back into a balanced position. His gaze now swerved upwards to meet the form of the large teen that had touched him to see if he was real.

Jake, relieved to have felt a material human shape that fit a child, stepped back and nodded to his acquaintance. "See, he's just a kid. You're pissing yourself just because of a kid…get a hold of yourself Dean."

The man called Dean watched the child, slowly perceiving the denseness of his little form, a scowl developing to crease his features. He grimaced and cursed, storing his gun away and looking around for any witnesses. Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, his back still rough with goosebumps. "Alright, I'm calling it a night. I'm going home now…fuck that kid, god damn that stupid-" Without another word to Jake, focusing on his own thoughts, the man strode away, cutting a diagonal path through the empty street, all the while cursing to himself and damning Vlad.

Jake watched and merely huffed at the hasty exit, but movement at his side stole his attention. He reached out to snatch the boy's arm when Vlad attempted to walk into the street in order to follow the drug dealer. The red eyes rolled over Jake's face and stayed there to see the stranger frown as he felt the grip on his arm tighten.

"What are you doing?"

Jake's demand entered Vlad's thoughts, and the child's brain produced a reason. "He has 'magic powder'. I saw it. I saw it, and he gave some to a guy."

Jake hesitated, narrowing his eyes and puckering his brow in confusion. "'Magic powder'?" What the hell is that?

"Yeah." Vlad answered in an airy voice, as if it was an obvious thing.

"What is that? I've never heard of it before."

"Magic powder you breathe in. It's white and you cut it up into powder."

Oh…

After seeing Vlad's appearance and asking a quick question that told him the boy had no one taking care of him, Jake, rocking back with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, debating whether or not this was a good idea, decided to invite Vlad to sleep at his house, on the couch, for the night.

Red eyes stared up at Jake dimly, somewhat stupidly. Then the eyes trailed down, seeing nothing. "Okay. Couch…a couch…I like couches. Couches are nice."

Raising his brow but deciding not to take back the offer, Jake's chin jerked in a direction across and down the street. Hands moved mechanically within his jacket's pockets, trying to indicate the direction as well. "C'mon then. If you like couches, you'll love this one. Alright?" When Vlad said nothing and didn't bother to look up at him, Jake frowned and then took a step off the curb and began to cross the street. Vlad followed, so quiet, the teen had to look over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure the boy was still there.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Jake got him a blanket and a pillow, and prepared the couch for Vlad as the boy used the shower to wash off some of the grime caked on his skin. The clothes had been filthier than the boy, and the smell convinced Jake to toss them in a garbage bag so he could take them to be washed. It would only cost a couple of quarters, and he could get his own clothes washed afterwards. Jake nodded and a large hand patted the pillow he would be lending Vlad for the night just as he heard the water shut off, the pipes leading upstairs becoming still and silent.

Through the door he heard the sink turn on as Vlad, as instructed, began to wash an article of clothing that was important, personal, and had no chance of being replaced by a loaned pair from the teen. Once a large shirt had been fetched for the boy, Vlad was dressed and sent downstairs again. Jake stood watching as the boy curled up and covered himself, and most of his head, with the blanket. The teen rubbed his own head, having a few unavoidable doubts now. If the kid stole anything his dad would be pissed. Completely and totally pissed. Luckily the father of a, what could be called, giant son, because he himself was a giant, was slumbering away in his bed, most likely enjoying his giant dreams. Because of this, Vlad was able to stay for the night.

Well, if he got friendly with the kid, then the boy would probably hesitate- er…decide not to steal anything while everyone was sleeping. Coming to this conclusion, Jake cleared his throat, a deep sound that made the blankets flinch and then peel back to reveal the red eyes that stared out of a white face. Creepy… Jake rolled a shoulder to collect himself before giving what he hoped to be a friendly smile to the kid. "I didn't get your name."

Moments passed. Finally the boy spoke. "Vlad."

The smile, having grown tired during the wait, became weaker. Jake's lips twitched. "My name's Jake. And now…" Jake rocked a little while he stood in his living room talking to the boy, clearing his throat in a place a small television was painfully visible. "You won't steal anything, not anything, when I'm sleeping right? You're a good kid, right…v…Vlad? Right Vlad?" I don't like the name. Jake ignored his opinion and went on, making his voice more serious. "If you steal anything my dad will get mad at me and then he'd either make me go after you or he'd go himself to catch you…doesn't matter where you go, he'd find you. But that's only if you take anything, 'kay? You…you don't bite the hand that feeds ya, or you starve, right?"

Having given the child this sound advice, and being rather pleased with himself, Jake smiled again, displaying a genuine expression this time. However, the smile did not manage to last long with the force of the red stare weighing down upon it. The red eyes made Jake a little nervous again- and then for the first time, he realized what exactly he had brought into his house. He swallowed noisily, eyeing the little addict with distrust.

The nervousness that was tormenting Jake was pushed down by an unexpected question. It was a question a kid would ask, which was the reason for the faint shock it created. "How come you live with your dad if you're grown up? Is he just really old?"

Wow… Thoughts…the boy really had thoughts going around in that little noggin of his… Jake had gotten the impression that the kid had been like a creepy doll, always staring and just watching, but with no mind of its own. And the kid had listened to him…which was good… Pretty good, in the end.

"I'm in high school right now. …You're…you're in middle school or something, right? Do you go to the one near here? …or do you go to school at all?" The sluggish questions came out awkwardly because of the teen's unfamiliarity with his situation. Doubts had made him unsure.

Vlad didn't seem to notice or care. "Yeah…"

Jake lingered for a while longer, rocking on his feet while his eyes inspected the old carpet covering the floor. Finally he said a quick goodnight and headed upstairs to sleep.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

_What the hell is this?_ Jake's father had been entering his kitchen when, over the arm of the couch in his living room, he had spotted a mass that appeared to be a body sleeping under a familiar blanket. The man discarded whatever he had been planning on doing in the kitchen and instead moved into his living room, staring at the blanket as his dark eyes squinted. A frown landed on the blanket, and after towering over the form for a moment, a large hand tore back the soft cloth.

Joel's eyes hardened as he measured the boy's shape, picking out an age and state of poor health, referencing the white boney legs he observed with a cringe. Ick. Everything about this boy… Ick, ick, ick- The man didn't like the looks of the child whose appearance gave away his situation. With a growl, Joel threw the blanket over the boy again and stomped off, going to the stairs. His booming voice brought his son sprinting down the steps after a few clamoring moments, disheveled with sleep and wiping his face to get rid of his limp gaze – one that looked up questioningly at his father, hunched and made smaller by fatigue. Vlad. The kid. He remembered with a spark of sharp anxiety. His posture straightened instantly, his mouth curving down with his pressing alarm as large brown eyes locked onto the man's face.

His father read the expression as a confession, and his head moved in the sleeping boy's direction. "That." He stated in a hard voice, serious and intimidating to one expected to show obedience at all times. "That back there, is not okay. That is disgusting… I know there are plenty of those out there, but none of them should make it in here. …Jake? Alright? I'm not cruel -don't give me that look, son- No. I'm realistic. …And you, you're just being stupid."

Jake's head was already pulled down, hanging in shame. He ruffled his hair and turned away from his father to cross his arms and nod with the tugging feeling. "I'm sorry Dad…I just found him-"

"Yeah, you found him. That doesn't mean you keep him."

Jake rocked, swinging gently with his arms tightening over his chest. "Can…can we at least feed him first? I mean- the kid's in middle school and he doesn't have anything to eat. He's starving."

"Find him a home then, a homeless shelter, where some social worker would be all over him in seconds. You don't meddle, do you hear me Jake? Never meddle in this dirty, scummy business when it's this bad. I hate the damned drug business…all around here. Feh. …Crack heads, heroin addicts, whatever - they will kill you. They will kill your life so that you're dead or ruined and left with nothing. Nothing, Jake. Desperate people kill. They're merciless in the ways they do it. He could kill you, tiny as the brat is. You wouldn't expect it, and that's how he'd get you, son. I'm just looking out for you."

Jake continued to rock from side to side, chewing his lip and refusing to look his father in the eye. "It was only for one night."

"Psh." Joel flung his hand and turned, the back of his head attracting a glance from his son. The man was walking away. "Fine. Do what you want. But if he takes any of my money, I'll skin the little bastard. I'll skin him alive."

Jake winced and then waited nervously for the man to leave his view before heading for the living room. Stiffly, he passed the kitchen where a heavy stare tracked him to the couch. Vlad's face was uncovered so Jake could see that the kid was still sleeping. A sigh of relief left him. Vlad hadn't taken anything. He hadn't had the chance to yet. That was good…all of that was for the best…

Anxious, Jake glanced back at his father and then snapped his head forward when he met the continued stare, the frown, the weighing disapproval. He heard another "Psh" and could visualize the man flinging his hand again, just as he always did whenever Jake screwed up on something- whenever he did something stupid. The boy groaned in his head.

_I'll skin him alive…._ Jake blinked to wipe the words from his brain and then scratched his chin before he bent down to rouse Vlad. He shared some of his cereal with the boy, pouring sugary flakes into a bowl that was handed over to eager hands. And then the teen dithered, stuck as he wondered how he could go get Vlad's clothes washed without leaving him in the apartment or taking him along in his underwear. He needed his father's help… The young giant gulped and wrung his hands in an attempt to swallow or grind down his apprehension before going off to seek the grumpy man who glared at him after the favor was requested - in a timid voice accompanied by an excessive amount of thumb twiddling. Could he watch Vlad without killing him? Jake would just have to find out. The teen gathered up some of his own dirty clothes and stuffed them into a basket he would shove into the backseat of his father's car, sticking the trash bag containing Vlad's clothes on top. He then sped off into the miniscule weekend morning traffic, leaving a prayer behind to hopefully protect Vlad.

Joel lumbered, as giants do, into the living room where the frown he had already been wearing carved deeper into his face, strengthening an already existing crease, upon seeing the boy who dozed on his couch. Grumbling, the man picked out the spot he would sit on to watch TV, growling at the child who perked up and then scooted away with proper meekness. Vlad held his knees and watched the giant as the giant watched his television, moving a giant hand once to adjust the pillow that had been supporting Vlad's head moments before. The man then realized what it was he was sitting on and scowled, pulling it out from under his leg and tossing it at the child huddled in the corner of the couch. The boy's behavior made the man snort with antipathy, but he continued to watch the screen of the small television as his son rushed about, stuffing clothes and quarters into a washing machine a mile away.

Vlad was afraid of Joel and he made sure not to do anything that would anger the giant. He didn't want to get smushed into jelly for the man's lunch, after all. A man of his size…all he would have to do is sit on Vlad and he'd become jelly. So the child hugged his knees and watched Joel in silence.

Jake, carrying his load of clean smelling clothes to his car, stopped to inspect an array of donated clothing arranged in boxes based on age. A woman was rummaging through one of the cardboard boxes sitting on a long foldout table. When he asked if the clothes were free for anyone to take, she looked him up and down and then nodded. "But I don't think anything in here'll fit you. I'm having a hard enough time finding something for my husband and he's a lot smaller than you."

Jake waved away the comment, explaining, "No, it's not for me. It's for a kid."

Her brow rose and she blinked. "Oh, your own?"

"No. No, I'm not old enough for that. I just look it." A good-natured grin was on his face, making the woman smile and feel comfortable with the teen beside her. Jake managed to pick out a pair of sneakers, a pair of well-worn jeans, and two shirts that were probably too big for Vlad. But what he had managed to gather pleased him and he went home with a smile, his good mood killing off his worries for a time.

He was quite happy and excited to see how glad Vlad would be when he gave the boy these clothes. It would probably make the little guy smile, and Jake liked making smiles.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Blood spat on the ground by the force of a blow to the gut, air rushing out, pushing out blood clogged in the throat of one who wheezed and could not speak. Teeth, shattered or missing, filled his mouth with despair – a mouth incapable of smiling. Never again. Never, from the mere sight of it, with shudders and icy pricks and the knowledge. The _knowledge_. Jake had this knowledge too, for he was watching, he was a bystander as blows fell, he had seen blood mark the thick chains since discarded for the purpose of extending the game…the game…the game he was participating in. Space was made for him- red eyes turned up and shed tears for him- when he stood and lifted a foot and sent it crashing down as if to send the pitiful suffering wretch below, deeper into Hell. He heard a crack and expected to see a fissure in the concrete, a mouth that would swallow the body, the pale thing, a mass of gore and flesh that made sound when it was stuck- this thing that had ceased to be human. But it had been bone, not concrete, that had been broken.

The foot slowly retreated, somewhat disappointed, as if it had wished that the body would just suddenly, simply, and cleanly disappear. …And why shouldn't that be what it wanted? It was Jake's foot, and Jake himself wished for the removal of the crying flesh, he wished for this with churning desperation deep inside him. On the surface, he felt excitement - excitement that had leapt from each dry face that witnessed human suffering, like fire through the cracked and brittle brush of a dead field. These were faces overwhelmingly hot and red and dead. Dead in the mind that could no longer control the body. A body, detached. A mind, detached. The laughing, roaring, violent dead – the youths and those with age, all with rage from some source. All of them, like flesh-eating zombies, tearing, ripping, biting and gnawing and breaking, chewing, spitting. Cannibals, these creatures here, cannibals eating one of their own, eating a life their world had given birth to, a life that was now consuming its own child. Violently - life bit down with violence to crush and shred the infant of its essence.

Vlad was dead as well, but in another sense. He still breathed, a blessed curse upon him lifting, filling, and then leaving his lungs empty. He was empty and torn apart inside. His innards were ribbons of tissue, slashed - prepared to be tenderized for the drooling glutton that is the conjoined twin united at the stomach, Life and Misery - their greedy fat hands tightening around Vlad, strangling and crushing – playing an abusive game called Cruelty with their food. It was flavor, this blood smeared to mark stains and these tears wiped away by fists.

Vlad was pulled up, limp, defenseless in the grip of two who were healthy, unharmed. A third came with the battering fist, the fist in the stomach, the fist in the chest, the fist in the shoulder, the fist in the face. He had so many, many fists. They all hurt. They all hurt, hurt so bad. . Death was the blunt trauma - the promise of it. Vlad didn't want death. He was afraid of it. He was not ready for it. He fled in fear to cry with anguish as life beat him with hatred. Hated, hated, hated, hated, hated, hated, hated, hated - he was hated. Oh God, why was he so hated? Why? …Why? …Why? Oh God, why? The boy's soul shook with sobs. Tears. Crying. Rain, beating outside, unheard over the thuds of blows, blows striking him.

Then the air, which had been hot with bodies, burning with hatred and violence and blows of pain, the air became chilled, a gust, a touch. It stroked him, down his spine. It grasped his shoulders with invisible hands and dug its thumbs into his back with fear. Laughter. Blurred vision saw movement. Ears heard the voices, heard the fun. The fun…

"Gonna try it out?" Laughter. "OH, hell yeah, this guy's gonna try it out." More laughter. "Oh boy, oh fuck yeah all you sons of bitches, this's real fucking seriousness here. Look at this mofo showing ya'll how it's done. He gonna stick this faggot good, stick him good. Hard, you wanna do it hard so it really gets past the skin and muscle and down in deep in the bone." _In the bone…they sounded so happy, for some reason, laughing, smiles, joy, praise, celebration… Oh God…why did they sound like this?_

Vlad's body jolted and red eyes rolled back into a dark skull, the handle of a knife sticking from his chest, sticking out near his shoulder. It was pain but it was not death. Not yet. Not yet.

With a gasped cry above it, the knife was wrenched free. Blood poured out once the stopper had been removed. Blood soaked the already wet jacket. As this blood bathed the colorless chest in crimson, a rough hand went through pockets, reaching deep, eventually pulling out the brown cat.

With a hazy veil over his vision, Vlad trembled and watched the execution. The jeers, the grins, the laughter - laughter and cackles, giggles, hoots, and howls. The bloody knife, blood, his blood, blood all over it, smeared- the blade punctured and ripped the cloth, spilled the beads that danced and scattered on the ground, some halted by viscous, snatching, holding blood - changing from white to red as they coated themselves to hide and escape from the violent scene above, the scene from which more of them rained like hail. The cat's body was ripped and mutilated, marked with Vlad's blood. Then, with this ruined form trailing from its head, the knife was stuck into the plush face, the murderer kneeling on the ground to stab down, down, down, to slice across, this way and that way, to cut off eyes and a nose, ears and a mouth.

Nothing was left of the cat after the dead savages were through. And then they returned to assaulting the boy who could no longer make a sound.

They grew tired after spending some time in this period of silence. Some wanted to finish the boy. Others wanted to do more. All agreed that it was Jake's decision, and Jake wanted the body to disappear. Jake knew what would take it far away. Jake knew the body could not swim, even in perfect condition.

This time he tied Vlad's wrists and stuffed him in his trunk. Others filled the car. They wanted to watch. They wanted to see the fun. More rope was added to the trunk beside two cinderblocks. Those would be the weights that would drag the body into the darkness, where it would finally disappear. Jake was eager to get rid of it, once and for all.

And they drove. And they drove. And they reached the cliffs over the sea. Jake was the one to lift the boy out of the trunk, to pass him to another as words were exchanged. Vlad was placed on the dirt.

"We should jus' kill him to make sure, ya know? Jus' ta make sure an' all." "Naw, let him drown. Let the fucker drown." "I've got my knife still. Here Jake, you should be the one to kill him. You should kill 'im with your own hands, kill the bastard –fer what he did to ya." "No! Let the bastard drown I said! Ain't you listenin'? I said I want to see him drown! I came to see the faggot drowned!" "You won't be able ta see nothin'. It's too damn dark. After he's in the water, he's gone." "No. Jake, here, here's the knife. I wanna see you spill his guts out. We could feed 'em to the lil' fishes, wouldn't that be better?" "Fishes? _Fishes?_ Who gives a fuck 'bout what the fucking fishes want! I want ta see the bastard drown! I want him to drown, drown, drown until he's dead, good and fucking _dead_!" "But I-"

The headlights blinded them. The siren deafened them, though it was only a short burst, a shout – but it filled them with their own cold fear. And they shouted as the cop car drove towards them, slowly at first, curiously, wanting to see what the group was up to.

"FUCK! THROW HIM IN THE WATER! GET OUTTA HERE!" "GET IN THE FUCKIN' CAR!" "THE CAR! THE CAR!" "FUCK, JAKE! KILL 'IM! KILL THE FUCKER- STAB 'IM- THROW HIM IN THE SEA!" "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, GET IN THE GODDAMN CAR!"

There was no time for the sea. The car, the flashing lights, the shout of the siren going off again - they converted the yards it would take to reach the edge of the cliff into miles. Jake held the knife, he felt the pressure from the gangsters screaming at him in the car, he felt pressure from the law screaming in his ears and blinding him with headlights and colored lights that flashed. The knife glinted in the light, in the midst of all this turmoil. And then the blade was sheathed in Vlad's stomach. Jake released his grip on the teen's jacket, his own old, familiar jacket, and he sprinted to the car, carrying the bloody knife in a clenched fist. He jumped into a backseat and someone drove the car roaring down the road, fleeing into the night.

The cop car, a radio buzzing, voices going- it stopped and one blurred uniformed figure ran forward and hunched over the battered body. Voices, voices, deep sounds…loud sounds…muffled sounds…

And then Vlad fell into a black and cold abyss.


	9. Chapter 9

The friendship that grew between the teen and the pale, homeless boy was peaceful in the sense that they continued to enjoy one another's company and began to trust and understand each other. Joel said nothing as the boy's stay lengthened into weeks, but he kept a wary eye monitoring the child's activity in his house. When the giant stepped into a room and Vlad was the only occupant, the boy would flee – prompted by his instincts which sensed that the man was a threat. Fear was the motive behind this behavior, but the rushed exits made the giant suspicious and so increased his dislike for the child, causing Joel to become more pessimistic, gruff, and unforgiving as time went on. Vlad was timid around the man, but all of that shyness melted away when he was with Jake or any of the other boys Jake introduced him to. They were beginning to accept him. They were becoming precious, a family, as each one of these 'brothers' was worth breaking bones and carrying scars for. There was no weight that was not worth bearing for them. Dedication and loyalty dictated this.

But Vanessa was different. The girl with short, dark hair, deeply tanned skin, brown eyes, and an unpleasant sneer on what could be considered a cute, girlish face – no, she was not family, not his family, and she never would be. The nauseating depression her very presence inspired was worse than the fear Vlad had for Joel. He feared her, to some extent, in some way. She was a threatening figure because of her cruel, malicious words – but, most strikingly, for the way she began to hoard Jake as soon as she sensed Vlad was becoming too close. To her, he was a nuisance, a sapping tick or an ingratiating worm – an object of disgust.

Her hatred of the boy caused him to feel resentment and even an emotion that resembled hatred against her. Hatred was a strong word for Vlad. Hatred meant one wished that the hated object did not exist, that it had never existed, that is was dead, or that it would suffer incredible agony and then die in the most miserable, humiliating, and terrible way possible. Vlad could not honestly make his heart harbor such a strong and heavy emotion or wish against any soul. Only faint flashes of the feeling would delude him into believing that he hated Vanessa. Perhaps he did hate her, but only for moments, when her words and sneering tone dug too deep beneath his skin. Then his jaws would lock as a furnace blazed behind his eyes. And then his mouth would open as a jet of flames shot out in curses and hateful words that would please the teenage girl who would then turn the flames against Vlad, and so, turn Jake against Vlad. She could twist Jake around her little finger. That was an ability Vlad loathed as he yearned for the day Jake would see her as the true 'bitch' that she was – when Jake would tell her that she was 'an awful, ugly bitch' and dump her in the mud…if there was any mud available…preferably in the mud...like she was a toad. A big, warty, fat, ugly toad. The thought always made Vlad snigger inside with bitter, resentful glee.

Oh, he wanted her to be humiliated. He wanted to slap the damn girl's arrogance off her face and teach her that she was not as wonderful, perfect, beautiful or desirable as she believed herself to be. Ha! He thought she was the most hideous creature he had ever laid eyes on, even uglier than himself. A certain pride came with this opinion, though in the eyes of any other, the girl was attractive, perhaps not overwhelmingly beautiful – actually far from it – but she was much farther away from being ugly, a level that Vlad would easily earn in other eyes.

So, needless to say, Vanessa and Vlad did not get along. Jake tried to keep them separated, and went to his father for advice at some point when frustration had him at his wits end, when he wanted to throw Vlad back on the streets but just didn't have the heart to do it. Joel told him bluntly that the boy was being possessive, that he was jealous of Vanessa and wanted Jake all to himself. It was partially true. Vlad was jealous, but he also believed that the girl did not deserve Jake. He wanted Jake to have the most beautiful, kindest, and smartest girl that existed, because Jake was the best - he was perfect, and so he naturally deserved the best. Vanessa the toad did not deserve to be Jake's girlfriend. She didn't deserve to hug him. She wasn't worthy enough to kiss him.

There came a time when money began to disappear in the Savage house. Joel Savage was not using it. Jake Savage was not using it. And there was no one else who _should_ be suspected as the culprit… Joel's temper became dangerous, his mood and expression always sour, as the presence of a thief became undeniable.

In total, over a period of two and a half weeks, sixty-five dollars and an old watch had disappeared, and of course, the primary suspect was the little drug obsessed freak that slept on the couch. The day Joel found his wallet lying open on his bed, twenty dollars lighter than it had been that morning, rage contorted his face, his earth rattling march rumbled up the stairs to where Jake was fiddling on the family computer in a cramped room with Vlad perched on a stool watching. The door cracked open - startling the two who had already looked at the door when the giant induced earthquake had been heard, and the monitor of the computer had been trembling faintly. Both of the boys stiffened as the man advanced with his evident fury twisting his features, but only Vlad, more afraid than Jake who could see the man as a parent instead of a real life-threatening figure, curled up on the stool, tucking his knees to his chest, and waited with growing dread as the giant's glower focused solely on him, and the lumbering form advanced in his direction.

There was a cry of mixed fear and pain, and a shout of stunned confusion from Jake as the teen jumped from his seat and grabbed his father's arm as the giant's hand clamped painfully on Vlad's skull. The stool fell back with a 'thunk' and a loud clatter that rung beside Vlad's frightened yelp before the boy created his own 'thunk' when he was flung onto the well-trodden carpet, pressed and hardened over years of wear. Jake was horrified as his father lifted the boy.

"_Dad!_ Dad, what are you doing? What are you doing to Vlad- NO! You'll hurt him! Don't- _You're hurting him!_"

The last cry was silenced by an angry bellow that made Vlad's face cringe and attempt to hide in his shoulder. But that was impossible. Joel held the boy by his sweatshirt and kept the child's face only a few uncomfortable inches from his own. Vlad squeezed his eyes shut as the hot breath made them water, and grasped the hands holding him up to ease the strain it put on his body, to ease the fear as his feet dangled above the floor. The bellowing voice became words in the jostled child-mind. "I _know_ what you've been doing! You've been _stealing!_ I've been watching for weeks, and I know that money's been disappearing! You've been taking things out of my wallet, haven't you? You little-! _Ungrateful_, little bastard! You know what my son has done for you? -and _this_ is how you act in return? Where is the money? _Where?_ Goddamn it! _**Where is it?**_" Spittle struck the panic on Vlad's face and murder brewed in the dark glare that bore a mountain of distain as it accused him.

"I don't have anything! I didn't take anything! I didn't do anything! Nothing, _I swear!_" The shrill voice broke out as Vlad feebly wriggled in the powerful man's grasp. "Put me down! Put me down! Please!" He begged for reason.

"Dad." Joel looked away, still scowling, when his son touched his arm and tried to lower it so Vlad would be able to stand on the floor. The man refused to let the muscled limbs budge. Jake frowned, a bit disappointed by this, but he proceeded to quell the man's fury with carefully chosen words. "I don't think the kid's been taking anything, I haven't seen him spend a cent. I've never seen him with any money, and I've never seen him go anywhere near your room. He hasn't even touched the jar in the kitchen-"

"But money has been disappearing Jake." The man's voice was practical now, though Vlad continued to dangle. Vlad became limp from the waist down when he realized it would be more comfortable. The grip was firm. There was no chance of him falling, and the muscles in his arms were beginning to burn. "You know I've been mentioning it for a while. I've asked you and you keep telling me you haven't borrowed any. Now son, there can only be two possible explanations. Either I've screwed up on raising you and you're a liar who'd steal from his own father, or this little freak here has been helping himself to the money I've worked hard to earn. He's getting free food and a place to stay, but I've got to work and pay for everything else- and he thinks it's alright to take my money?" Joel would have gone on, but Vlad's voice broke into the conversation - anxious and just as unhappy about the idea as ever - to regain the giant's brutal glare.

"Jake would _never_ steal anything from you! But I didn't take any money! I swear-!" The lighter voice was pitched against the low rumble.

"And how do you expectme-" Joel began. Vlad raised his voice to speak over him, reaching a sharp note of hysteria.

"I would _**never**_ take money away from Jake! You buy _everything_ for him! Right? That money is for _you_ and _him_, and it's yours and his and I would never ever- not even if I was DYING would I even _think_ 'bout taking any of your money! I swear! And if I ever _did_, you could step on me and crush me up as much as you wanted, because I would _hate_ myself! I would damn well deserve every bit of it! _But I didn't take anything! _I swear to God, _I didn't! I didn't! I didn't! _I'd swear on the Holy Bible, I took nothing!" The breathless conclusion entered and then dispersed to fill every corner of the room

Vlad paused as the quiet pressed in and the close set of brown eyes made him squirm and duck his head, but he struggled to maintain eye contact with Joel – using all his willpower and following the instinct that told him how important this moment was for proving his innocence, for getting the man to believe him. Joel still refused to release him or lower the child by any degree.

The frown that had replaced the scowl dripped down the sides of his face just before the giant spoke. "You're a skillful liar."

A blow of dismay and the injury received by his hurt dignity made the boy gawk. He spluttered stupidly. "_But-_ _but- …But_ I'm telling the _truth!_ I can't lie worth shit! Tell him Jake!" Red eyes pleaded, finding the uneasy teen. "I can't even lie about how old I am. I tried telling guys I was 13, but I couldn't get it out right or anything. I- I had to say I was 12. I couldn't even say a little lie like that! Even though I'm really close to 12 and a half! I mean, I'm a totally stupid, retarded liar!"

"I-" Jake hesitated, shuffling his feet as if he meant to flatten the carpet further while keeping his eyes on the floor once he took his hand from his father's arm. "I don't think Hell Dog took anything." He used the boy's nickname, since it was the name he had come to identify the boy with. "Dad…please put him down. …At least that…"

There was another pause, but afterwards Vlad was lowered to the floor. However, Joel did not discard his narrowed stare. He was nowhere near convinced, nowhere near being pacified beyond having been persuaded not to inflict justice upon the child at that instant. From the very beginning, he had expected the boy to end up stealing from him. The boy was destined to always be guilty of the crimes suspected of him. Every fiber of his dark hair was suspicious and untrustworthy. Every glance of his eye was the generation of an evil plot. Every movement of his hand was the action of some selfish scheme.

"Then tell me where the money is." Joel Savage stated coolly, grey dread stealing the healthy flush from Jake's face while Vlad's eyes sought desperately for some imagined form of trust that could be acquired from the man's eyes. "If you didn't take it, then where did it go? Hm?" The frown became more sarcastic, more insulting, as it continued to be intimidating.

A confused brow crinkled as Jake frowned and rocked forward, trying to determine what he should do. Vlad had his shoulders hunched, his lips puckered into a helpless expression of dismay. His nose burned suddenly and he took in a deep, stabilizing gasp. "But- but how- how can I know that? How can I know where it is? I didn't take it. I- I can't just, like- I-" The stammered rambling died off as Vlad ran out of thoughts, dumbfounded with a mind contorted by the stunned emotions that rose and swirled chaotically from the blunt force of the unexpected question – which wouldn't have been unexpected if not for Vlad's state of complete innocence regarding the crime. He had been happy and content only minutes ago, and now he was stuck in an emotional storm of inner turmoil brought about by false accusations and evident dislike directed towards him by a man he had never purposely offended. He was a little boat being flung about by the great, angry sea – ready to capsize and sink into the depths, but continually tossed by the waves that wished to torment him. His lips trembled as his eyes rushed through the pressed carpet threads, bouncing off the legs of chairs, the desk, and the overturned stool. He wanted that stool for some reason. He wanted to pick it up and set it right…

-He wanted to pat it and sit on it and watch Jake play medieval kingdom games and watch Jake be happy and be happy again himself and smile and laugh and- and go to sleep- and not have Joel here… Joel frightened him. He was the boogeyman of his nightmares. He- he just wanted Joel to go away. He wanted him to leave them alone…

Joel watched the boy, noting the pale fingers that wrung out the hem of his jacket nervously, as if the cloth had absorbed the sinking weight of the water from the deep sea of confusion that continued to toss the boy to and fro. Wrinkles around the man's eyes deepened as Joel's glare flashed with a sharp glint of antipathy that also crinkled his nose. "All out of lies?"

Vlad's head snapped up, his mouth a wide cringe of pain he choked on. Words were like coughs and sputters for air. "I- uh- but- no I- ..I-I- I didn't- but I- I never- _No_-" A disturbing whine slipped out from beneath the shrinking voice as Vlad tugged at his hair and bent his head, striking a cord in Jake that pushed him forward. His hand fell on his father's arm once again, and now it stayed there.

"I'll find it." Father and son examined at one another, hard and serious. "And if he did take it, I would be able to get it out of him a lot better than you can."

An injured Vlad broke in, "But Jake! I didn't! I swear on my life! I didn't-"

"Yeah. Yeah Vlad, I get it." He quieted the boy absently, trying not to allow his father to be distracted. Without any more words to exchange, the teen's grip tightened for a moment, squeezing the arm. Then father and son understood one another.

Joel huffed and sent a final glare to the little addict. Filled with disgust by the mere sight of the boy, the man growled a curse and the back of a giant hand brushed Vlad from his path before he marched from the room.

The teen and the child were left in an uncomfortable silence as they watched the doorway empty of the large figure. Vlad lunged forward to grab at Jake's arm in a fitful state of anxiety. "J-Jake y-you know I didn't. You know." His greatest fear, surpassing his dread of the towering giant's mighty fists, was the dreadful possibility of one day looking into Jake's eyes and seeing the damning flare of hatred which had been so obvious in Joel's glare, or even the mildest form of resentment.

But Jake was neutral, unable to decode his feelings to gather up his opinion. Abruptly his face became haggard, and behind the exhaustion, sadness invaded his features. One hand wanted to pat the worried child, and the other wanted to slap him. So the hands remained motionless and soon the teen left to board himself up in his room so he could be alone.

It might seem obvious that it had been the toad. But the suspicion did not come to Vlad for another handful of days, each of which strived to surpass its predecessor in both length and the amount of mental abuse it could inflict upon the boy. Then Vlad was given a day that allowed him to detect a glittering substance highlighting the girl's eyes. It was a bronze and copper eye shadow. The new detail in her appearance, brought about by the makeup, had caught his attention because the day had been wet and the air was full of moisture, so Vanessa's hair had grown into a dark frizzy mane encompassing her head, and this combined with the eye shadow made Vlad think she looked a little bit like Mufasa from the Lion King. So the memory remained in his head and was easily referenced the next time he saw Vanessa. This time he picked up on the bangles that clinked together on her wrist, and then the glint of a few cheap rings on her fingers which hadn't been there before. Something was roused by this, but it did not mature into the correct feeling of suspicion until he saw the purse she carried one day, hanging from her shoulder. It was new and the leather creaked when she moved around, freshly manicured claws red with sin.

Vlad had stared at the evidence until he had stared his mind blank as the realization seeping into his head bleached his thoughts. Then a feeling of horror entwined with rage, which set his emotions ablaze, shot up his throat and made him gag, tasting bile as he sprang from his seat and left Jake's room, from which he staggered down the stairs to sit on the couch he slept on each night. He was almost certain that Vanessa was the culprit responsible for upsetting the Savage house. His dislike for the girl buoyed her worst qualities to the surface of his thoughts, and suddenly, when he returned to the room to take a peek at her before retreating, he clapped eyes on a monster capable of the most depraved crimes he could imagine, such as stealing from Jake- from Jake's dad, and blaming it on the red-eyed freak she despised – though she had never said that he was the culprit. Vlad's hands shook, and to still them, his fists crushed the couch cushions as a snarl rippled over his thin lips, teeth bared and menacing while his eyes burned with gleeful hatred.

With a growl, feral and dark, the boy did something unprecedented. He acknowledged that Jake could not overcome his blind affection. Vlad lost all hope for Jake. He lost faith in the teen's strength, and instead of going to Jake to tell him of his suspicions, he sought the grown giant who resided in the foreboding cave that only the giant and those of the giant blood were allowed to enter. Vlad was headed in the direction of Joel's room when a familiar scent, a mixture of moisturizers and cheap perfume, wrinkled his nose and he ducked through an open doorway in the hall after slipping past the kitchen, hiding himself in the gloom of the cramped bathroom. The boy crouched beside the toilet and the space between the hinges of the door, and there, he waited for the other presence to emerge. Vanessa, convinced that Vlad had continued down the hallway, strode forward with brisk, silent steps, her shoes removed and currently resting in Jake's room _upstairs_ as the teen awaited her return from the nicer bathroom with the broad, well-lit mirror, which was also _upstairs_. In order to excuse her delay, she had planned on claiming that she had 'forgotten about the upstairs bathroom' (again) and had used the one downstairs. No suspicion existed, so any excuse possessed the same strength as the most complex alibi.

But now there was no possibility of that being the case, because Vlad was currently spying on her from within that particular downstairs bathroom, though he gradually entered the hallway in order to use more than just his sense of hearing to observe her.

The girl opened cupboards and stood on the tips of her toes, searching for the jar - searching as wicked delight brightened crimson eyes and curled pale lips when Vlad's teeth shone in a satanic grin, hot blood rushing to his head, joy overwhelming him as he peered around the corner of the wall into the kitchen as he heard the 'thunk' of a thick glass jar and saw the girl grip the lid, heard the scrape and twisting of the metal against the glass and saw her hand slip into the jar, and- and-

The wild, hysterical cackling of a mad creature rang throughout the house, plucking and tearing nerves as the teenage girl shrieked. Her arm swung away from the counter, outside of her control, as she started and spun, and the jar - still in possession of her once curious, and now frightened hand - found that it could no longer contain it.

The jar flew past the tips of her fingers.

The sound of glass shattering punctured the air as coins screamed out 'Thief!' and 'Deceiver!' against the kitchen tiles -while paper dollars rolled away from the scene or remained trapped under the broken skeleton of the jar that had been smashed by the will of momentum set against an immovable object -while chunks and slivers of glass shot from the wreckage, with clear grains that skipped about frantically to hide- While all of this was happening, the world was changing. Booming steps rattled the contents of the house as the initial din died out, an atmosphere of pain and chaos that made the girl shriek again, panic, and then a scream of rage as her eyes landed on the sniggering little demon that fully revealed itself - Vlad who now stood in the way of her only escape from the crimes which had set their consequences upon her. The booming was the baying of the hounds, and the hunt was nearly finished. The power of the great smile on his lips had quieted Vlad for a moment, but soon the sealed lips burst apart with another assaulting fit of laughter that coated the girl's panic with accumulating layers of loathing.

She lurched forward, prepared to claw at the little demon's face with her red talons until it was unrecognizable, but Vanessa cut off her attack as the figure of a giant loomed behind the giggling child. Vlad looked up and grinned, outrageously delighted to watch the man he feared inspect the vision of destruction with a flickering glower - the dark eyes viewing the scattered money, viewing the girl in the middle of it, and forgetting about the boy beneath him who cackled with joy.

Joel only looked down when Vlad translated his laughter into English, adopting words. "I didn't do it! I told you that I wasn't the one who did it! It was her! It was this _bitch_-" the insulting word was pitched from his lips with an exulting laugh, a feeling he relished after containing it for so long, "-all this time! And I _knew_ it! And I _caught_ her! And she's not gonna buy any new makeup shit or girly crap ever again! She's gonna-!"

Jake appeared at his father's side, his eyebrows hitched, his mouth creased, and his eyes searching for the misfortune he expected. He began to ask if everything was alright, but stopped.

The feelings of concern faded from his face when dark eyes swept over the scene. "-the Hell-?"Jake broke off his exclamation and simply let his eyes rest on Vanessa, his body going cold when suspicions he did not want to believe demanded to be recognized. Then he found himself desperately searching through the mess on the floor with his eyes to pick out the pieces of a different story, but again in another moment he found himself staring at his girlfriend - a person he had trusted and respected - unable to move, unable to think, unable to acknowledge reality. His sudden intrusion had startled Vlad who spun around to see Jake. Vlad had to pause for a moment in order to plunge into his malicious glee for a second time as he continued to gloat.

"_She_ was taking all the money! And I _caught_ her!" He announced with a triumphant smile and a laugh, awaiting the expression of joy he would soon see on Jake's face. "I never did it! I never stole anything! It was her all this time- _Her!_" A white finger jabbed at the voiceless girl in the kitchen as her boyfriend continued to stare at her, his features steadily revealing his shock - …then came a wave of frustration and grief that Vlad, preoccupied with jeering at the girl, did not observe. The girl was provoked by the insults and hurled curse after shrieked curse at the laughing boy, reviving the din of screaming shards and shattering glass with her voice while Jake watched as a mute - paling, losing feeling in his fingers, in his arms, in his legs…as all feeling shrunk into his chest and consumed his mind.

…

All Jake heard were muffled voices as his father, in a steady voice that was never raised and without exhibiting the anger he had shown Vlad before, told the girl to leave. Jake only followed her with an empty gaze, his mouth opening but unable to speak as his mind melted, decomposing the basis of his character with the jarring shock he had received - when she passed him an unbearable look of contempt and sneered, her voice twisting the words she wedged into Jake's gut and stabbed under his ribs, twisting - twisting those sinister blades of sharpened cruelty into the deepest reassess of genuine emotion.

"I don't need a _stupid_ guy like you anyhow, Jake. Go on, go find some other girl- _We're done._ And you know what? You know WHAT? You'll never find someone as good as _**me**_. Never-! -_God!_" She cackled, a witch proud to be burned as she knew they had no power to harm her. "I was just here because you were so easy to-! You should've gotten rid of the freak like I kept telling you to, Jake. You still would've had a _girlfriend_ if you'd listened to me. But _no_. No- no- you were too _stupid _to do that. _That _would've involved _thinking_ for a moment, and no _dumbass_ like you can _think_ for a _moment_-" Joel helped her leave in order to end the barrage of insults. Jake remained while Vlad followed the others to the door to watch Vanessa get 'thrown' out. The harshest thing Joel really did, though he now knew what kind of character Vanessa had, was tell her that her parents hadn't raised her to be a 'thieving little whore', in a calm and low voice, and then shut the door while she screamed obscenities and flipped him off for a grand show of rebellion and invincibility before stamping her feet on the sidewalk and throwing a fit that vaguely resembled the tantrum of a spoiled three year old child.

God… Vlad thought as he watched her through one of the windows. He despised girls. They were greedy, disgusting, selfish, and they used whatever means they had to draw in guys so that they could take whatever they desired before moving on to the next sucker who could give them what they wanted. He made sure to watch her long enough to develop a deep-ridden abhorrence for all human females before abandoning the window to follow Joel.

With proper concern for his son, where Vlad was oblivious, Joel returned to the kitchen. Vlad came into the living room, quite close to the kitchen, sniggering and chortling to himself while muttering little dark insulting things that added to his cheerful mood. When he found that he was standing near Jake, the child touched the young giant's arm and grinned up at him with pure, unadulterated happiness, free from the depression that had been haunting him and drunk on the feelings his victory had yielded. His mind told him everything was absolutely, positively, overwhelmingly fantastic now. Things would be just _grand_. He would return to having fun with Jake - more fun than ever – and they would both be happy together.

But that misconception was shattered like the glass jar and the contents of the sin that had corrupted Vanessa with greed. It was reduced to a lingering phantom as Vlad's joy and love for the boy he idolized was scattered over the floor when a fist threw him down on his hands and knees, where he shuddered with blinking thoughts, one arm collapsing, bringing his face closer to the ground – anger and despair crushed him into the carpet.

One of Vlad's nostrils reddened when blood slowly seeped from his nose, failing to pearl or drip onto the absorbent threads that would, once in possession of it, never relinquish the red dye. The boy rolled himself back to sit down, stupefied by the blow as Jake stalked off in a mad fury, feet pounding on the stairs, and then a crack ripped through the world as a door was slammed hard against the boy sitting on the floor, watching the wall before him.

Blood finally began to travel down to Vlad's lip as he breathed, his jaw and cheek throbbing while his mouth hung open, manipulated by pain and shock. With the blood hovering just above his upper lip, the child gazed up at Joel who passed him to begin cleaning the kitchen, an attempt to rid it of all remembrance of the unpleasant event that had just taken place. It took time, but the man finally looked down at the boy on the floor who continued to gape at nothing, and then at Joel when the round eyes turned to the man again - unable to understand what had happened, why he was in the wrong, why Jake seemed to hate him now instead of Vanessa. But Vanessa was the greedy, thieving one- and all he'd done- all he was guilty of was- was catching her red handed, which- which was a _good_ thing. It was helping Jake. It was what Jake should have wanted, so- so-…

What had he done wrong? Why was he hated? – _so…so __**hated**__?_

Pain tore through and quartered a beating organ and it bled profusely with a flood of gushing agony.

Red eyes reddened further as tears welled and, with one side numbed as the flesh throbbed and began to swell from the blow, the lip trembled with the emotional wound that gaped from his chest. The boy hiccupped and began to cry, eyes beseeching the man for some kind of explanation – looking for help – looking for an ally when he believed he had just lost his friend.

Looking for someone who would tell him he wasn't bad, that he hadn't done something wrong – something that had hurt Jake. -Jake who was special, precious. -Jake…the most important person in his life. Who- …Who…

Joel observed the child, the blood, the tears and anguish, for a moment and then glared at him before ignoring the boy whose chest heaved with misery, to continue with his work – the father bending down to quietly pick up the fragments of his son's first love.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

School returned, just as stubborn as the advancement and pace of time, and Alex Anderson resumed his classes, attending each with his thoughts focused on what had always dominated his mind. Vlad did not enter his thoughts until a rumor did, a rumor that contained Vlad – one that reinserted the freak into his life.

Class. Art. Drawing. On paper. Nothing more extraordinary than the dull monotone of routine.

But then one boy spoke, excited, thrilled by what his ears had picked up on recently, what a few others had heard but had not discussed. His eyes passed around the table.

"I hear that Hell Dog got murdered."

For a full moment that pulled the stool and the earth from beneath the jock, Anderson's heart and mind, all consciousness ceased. He didn't remember looking up. He had never told his hand to scribble a few violent lead strikes across his paper. But when the Earth was returned and his stool was placed beneath him again, Anderson realized that he was staring at the boy named Michael. Everyone at the table was looking at him, but no one possessed the same alarm, the same dread – no other heart had stopped, but Anderson's.

Michael's lips had curled, due to the slight nervousness he experienced from receiving so much attention and due to the weight of the news itself – but also, he smiled because the attention pleased him. The expressions he observed had been the response he'd been hoping to see. The teen looked around with his smile, drinking in the other faces before he repeated himself, opening the smile that made his heart pound a little harder with excitement. "I heard that his gang caught him, and that they killed him and burned the body."

"-I heard," another voice, a girl, interjected, "I heard that he was shot and that he was buried, but no one knows where."

Taken aback by the contradiction, and displeased by it, Michael was frowning though he continued to listen and join in the conversation as different rumors surfaced – each rumor inserting more and more of the freak into Anderson's mind as he stared, as his pencil remained motionless on the paper, sometimes making squiggling lines when Anderson turned his head, or when the hand trembled for an instant, for a spike of anxiety.

It took several minutes before Anderson's mind had cleared enough to allow him to speak. He was perfectly still, a little pale, with an expression that seemed blank as the result of a devastating mental blow, as if he had suddenly discovered that a rock was a liquid or that God was simply a character in a storybook. His words drew in their attention, but his unsteady voice and the look he wore attracted the others' alarm and took their thoughts back to the reason why Hell Dog would have been killed and why that would affect the blonde.

"He's not dead." All eyes were on him, most widening instantly and blinking out surprise before showing pity or guilt trimmed with the curiosity that kept their eyes fixed on Anderson. "He'll show up at school at some point. There…" he took a breath, "-there's no use paying attention to rumors. It's just wasting your time." The blank expression turned to the watching faces, Anderson trying to convince them as goosebumps rose to roughen his forearms with a chill. He swallowed and shook his head at them, at the faces, at the emotions in his chest and the influence they were having on his body. He shook his head hard and frowned, his brow pinching as the teen became determined to erase the rumor that _must_ be false, that _must_ be a lie - that just _couldn't_ be true.

He shook his head and frowned at the person who murmured, "Alex…"

He shook his head again. "No. He's not dead. He's probably hiding out with someone else for now, and maybe he'll come back. Maybe he'll switch schools. Maybe he'll just drop out. He probably was planning on doing that anyway." The jock wiped the memory he had of Vlad on the drizzling morning, when the gangster had talked about graduating, about amazing everyone by walking up in front of them all wearing his cap and gown and his diploma in hand. No. No, he- he dropped out, probably. He was paranoid. Or- or else, he's just, just hiding somewhere. He'll show up. He'll definitely show up somewhere.

Anderson hunched over his paper as the others continued to watch him, erasing the marks his surprise had left on the drawing. Even if the freak was still staying at my house, I bet these rumors would have come up. They were bound to. Him not showing up for a few days…bound to have rumors, with his situation. The- his reputation attracts attention, that's why people are so- so fixated on him right now. It'll pass. Rumors pass. The green eyes started with a blink and the jock sat up when a large hole had been torn through his drawing paper. He had been pressing too hard on the eraser.

Anderson stared at the ruined drawing.

"Alex is probably right." Someone spoke up, giving anxious glances to Anderson while she looked around at the others, communicating her reason for speaking through her eyes and expression. "It's just rumors. The guy will show up next week, or something, or he dropped out or his family moved away. I mean, if it's dangerous, his family probably would have moved him someplace else so that he'd be safe."

Anderson rose to retrieve a new piece of paper, but found that the pile on the table near the teacher's desk had run out. He stole the woman's attention from her computer to ask if he could have another. She told him to use the other side of the one he'd already started on, but then went to a cabinet to fetch him a new piece when she found out about the hole.

The woman offered the paper to Anderson, but as he was taking it, she saw something in his face that made her move the paper out of his reach so she could examine what detail had caught her eye. Anderson glanced about the cabinets and shelves and art projects as his nervousness made his muscles restless, his powerful body wanting to help the boy and take Anderson somewhere far, far away where his current distress could be forgotten. But he waited for her to give him the paper, awkwardly stuffing his hand into a pocket when seconds passed by with no change.

The teacher was a middle aged woman with a dark and very direct gaze that could easily reduce young 'adults' to squirming children before her. But the frown and the gaze were her current expression of concern. "Is everything alright?"

Anderson nodded and glanced at her fleetingly before breaking eye contact again. When he was quiet for a while, she gave him the paper and Anderson's muscles were finally allowed to quickly return the teen to his table, where his presence interrupted a conversation that was undoubtedly about him.

As soon as Anderson had begun to draw a few basic circles, Michael spoke, taking up the subject that had caused Anderson to ruin his last drawing. This time no strikes of lead appeared, but Anderson was frowning as he listened.

"No, it's not a rumor. I really think they did it."

"Michael!" Someone protested, giving him a look that suggested he was being insensitive. But the teen would not be stopped. He was too excited, and now indignation and natural stubbornness pushed him on.

Michael shook his head. "No, some guys have been bragging about it. They claim that they _saw_ it happen. How can you _see_ it happen, if it didn't happen?"

"Easy. They're _lying_. Did you know any of the people who said they saw it happen?"

He scoffed. "No. But-"

"Then how do you know it's true?"

Eyes were rolled. "_Because_-"

The argument continued and Anderson continued to draw, concentrating all of his attention on the tip of his pencil as some voices were raised, as the debaters became careless.

The teacher, who was making her rounds and had planned on stopping by Anderson to speak with him, heard what she thought might be a fight, and went to the table to seek out the cause of the ruckus. All she heard, upon reaching the table, was that someone had died.

"Who died?"

The teens froze and stared at the intruder, some fidgeting and pretending that they had not taken part in the conversation and had simply been drawing like Anderson. Her gaze made those who were not pretending to be innocent either feel ashamed of what they had been saying or uneasy about the subject and what might happen if the teacher found out. Vlad was her student, after all.

"Who died?"

There was no escaping it.

The teacher suspected that it might be a family member, a friend, a popular celebrity, but that it had something to do with Anderson. Something had to be the source of his altered behavior, the agitation, the anxiety she had seen in his face. She stared down at one boy who she knew to be rather gregarious by nature. The squirms began and endured for less than a minute before the teen broke.

Michael told her that Vlad was dead.

…

The woman was sitting at her desk, calling the front office while class continued - voices rising as the rumor was discussed, jumping from table to table like an infectious disease running rampant in an overcrowded cell. It was as if a celebrity had passed away…for Vlad was currently famous in the school, he had been for several weeks, and everyone who attended the school had been accustomed to using Vlad as a summary example of the school's drug and gang problems. Every student, every staff member knew of Vlad's reputation. No one, however, with a brain in their head, envied him for this popularity. All of it was negative, and now his death gathered only shallow pity. Others outright proclaimed that the freak had had it coming and that it was his own fault. Vlad deserved the many gruesome deaths that were circulating around the school and into other schools in the same district. The cruelty of man was met with nods, laughs, and applause.

And then Vlad was found.

The middle-aged teacher with the direct gaze identified him when a family member was asked for and none could be found - when any other friend had been asked for and no one presented themselves - except for her. He was beaten and swelled beyond recognition, but the hair, the skin, and the red eye that was not completely swelled shut told her who he was. She cried first, and then gave her answer. He looked like a corpse, covered in casts and bandages with needles stuck uselessly in his lifeless arms. The oxygen mask was only giving the illusion of breath entering this body.

"_Will he live?"_

And the doctor had replied.

"_Yes."_

…

With his mother being a cop, though not working on the case, Anderson and his father were involved in the matter of the investigation, and each said what they had to add, what would help the police figure out what had happened, that it was most likely a hate crime, around what time Vlad had last been seen, etc... Anderson couldn't remember where he had dropped off Vlad, but he recalled that it was in a certain portion of the city. Not much went into looking for the location, as not much was given for describing it.

It was found that the boy had no family, which some had already known, but this being the case it was the tax payers' duty to watch their money pour into the poor boy's wounds, to patch him up just enough to keep him alive. But with a wealthy hand already having left its prints on the case, a certain Mr. Anderson soon surrounded the boy with a team of well-qualified doctors who planned the surgeries that would retrieve Vlad's past and more human appearance from what would have claimed it and left the teen looking like a mutated cripple for the rest of his life.

But something was to be achieved through this generosity, and once Vlad's mouth had been refilled, the gaps situated with bright new teeth, and a psychiatrist was on hand, and was paid to be frequently on hand to paste the shattered pieces that lay in the bed back into the semblance of a child – then, the discussion took place. It was the beginning of February.

Numbed by medication, his position, and his memories, Vlad had agreed to whatever his benefactor had said, too grateful to do otherwise, and without a mind to place questions in the way of actions that would severely alter his life.

Vlad was no obstacle in the man's eyes as he observed the boy who blended into his bed sheets, whose arms wore a pattern of scars and tubes and marks left by tubes that had been removed. Whose state had stripped him of his past personality, which was gradually returning, though altered – changed forever. The boy still denied that any memory of the unfortunate night remained within his battered brain, but Mr. Anderson and the psychiatrist who had a list of medications he was prepared to prescribe for the teen, knew that circumstances and feelings kept the boy mute on the subject. Yes. Vlad was a ball of putty in his hand.

His son, on the other hand, was a thorn of rebellion, controlled only because it was trapped in the very flesh of the grip the man who'd given him life had over him. And here, Casey, whom Anderson had not laid eyes on since before he had last seen Vlad, returned to the Anderson house and left the Anderson house, without seeing Anderson, and with plans of never seeing him again. For education is expensive. Medical school…is expensive. And Casey himself was an expensive individual. Money was quite valuable to him. He liked money, quite a bit, and though he liked the blonde teen who would have gone to the ends of the Earth to please him, he liked money more. And so what he did to damage the boy's life and happiness, he did with a clear conscience.

The packages that were left on the dark mahogany desk, Mr. Anderson never looked at, never touched or acknowledged, until he instructed his son to inspect its contents and remain silent. The first was done, but the nature of the contents made the second instruction impossible. Mr. Anderson now would never need to open or touch the package himself, as the reaction informed him that what he had expected had indeed been there. Yes. He had always known about the boys, about Casey, about his son. And now Anderson knew just how much the man was aware of. Mr. Anderson knew every little detail, he knew things Anderson himself had forgotten. Every secret, every string that could be used to manipulate him, to bind him, to force the resentful thorn into his own palm in order to control it... Digital evidence was only inspected with the horror of suspicion, and then it was blocked out by the much more powerful feeling- the experience of the darkest unconscious nightmare capable of hiding in the human psyche metamorphosing into waking reality, brought out to be publically scrutinized in the light of day.

They argued. They fought. One with a raised voice; one with a cold voice. Bitter. Hateful. On Anderson's side, there was much pain and confusion.

"This is insanity! This is- This is illegal! This is-"

"And which should I prefer? To have the son who contracts AIDS and dies before he's thirty? Or to have one who can be controlled?"

"You're insane! You're- -You're just insane!"

But acts of madness shall have their ways with the world.

Yes. Mr. Anderson then placed the thorn and the putty into one hand, and directed that hand towards a mean purpose meant to only gratify his own feelings of resentment, of blame, of disappointment and shame that had instilled the resentment and blame in the man's mind, where it had festered in unhealed wounds from the past. Vlad could cause greater misery than the man's callous wife ever could…

And it was his aim to have his son experience that greater misery. When word of it was passed along to other relations tied to the Anderson name, surprise filled each who also bore the news, but the worst was not to be tempted to be communicated through written, typed, or spoken words. The worst, Mr. Anderson knew, would come about with time, but for now just the idea would be enough to haunt those relations who thought nothing, or less, of that part of the family, and which would certainly spell out misery for the boy who lost some of the expectations he had looked forward to, when the license and documents were signed and acknowledged, when the judge gave permission for the case, when all was settled when the freak was tied to him forever.

And Alex Anderson, who had always believed he possessed complete control over his life, that he could make himself excel, make himself into a person fit for a life he could be proud of – lost control of his life… It was as inevitable as an addiction with no help, no cure, the life Vlad had been living for five years, one he never would have imagined existing before outside forces threw it upon him… And now Anderson's father was throwing what the boy believed to be a miserable and shameful life upon his son, to crush every ounce of happiness, hope, and pride his body contained.

Vlad would mend until the middle of summer when he would move into the condo that was pleasantly close to Anderson's college of choice, and, together with one roommate who would soon be added, Vlad would live with Anderson.

* * *

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Sorry for not being able to update. I've been busy.

Also...

This development was planned over a year ago. The story is nowhere near ending.

This is another beginning.

...

I hope you have a nice day. ^_^


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